


How to Get Rid of Nightmares

by UltimateFandomTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly feels, Dean trying to find his way out of the closet, Destiel feels, Japanese Mythology - Freeform, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mentions of amara, Nearly soulless Dean, Sam Fucking Winchester, Sam: the biggest Destiel shipper, Sammy does a bad thing to try and help Dean, mentions of lucifer, semi-soulless Dean, the Men of Letters seriously need to write more exciting books, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: Dean has been getting nightmares since he got the Mark removed and the Darkness was unleashed. His unhealthy way of dealing with them leads Sam to summon a Baku, a spirit that devours nightmares, in order to help his brother. When the spirit turns Rogue, not only is Dean's life at stake, but his soul as well.





	1. Coffee

Nightmares were not uncommon for the Winchester brothers. At night, while their bodies slept, their minds tried to make sense of the things they'd been through, but to no avail. They would wake up with a start, shivering in cold sweat. Lately, both were experiencing this more than usual. Dean often dreamt about the Mark, and the Darkness. Sam dreamt about Lucifer. Though Sam's dreams tended to be quite disturbing, he attributed them to the visions he'd been receiving from God. So, in a way, he was dealing with his nightmares. Dean's version of dealing with them was drinking himself to sleep, and drinking whenever a nightmare woke him up. Sam was worried about his brother, but as usual, Dean refused to talk about his emotions.

It was a long shot, Sam thought, but maybe in their library he could find a spell that would help Dean. So that's where he was before it was even six in the morning, a large tome in front of him, and his coffee cup in his hand as he read. He lifted the cup to take a sip, but when none of that precious caffeinated liquid met his tongue, he looked down into it with a frown on his face.

_I've finished it already?_

That'd been his third cup that morning. With a sigh and a little shake of his head, he placed the cup down on the table. Sam looked at it for a couple of seconds as he speculated whether to get himself yet another cup. Having tossed and turned all night, he was tired. 

_Nah, I should save some for Dean. He probably needs it more than I do._

And that drew Sam back to the book in front of him. It didn't seem like what he was looking for, but it hit the mark more than the others did. The other two books he'd flipped through and skimmed were lying open on the table just in case an idea came to him, or he'd missed something. 

Nothing in this section seemed to have anything useful. It was about a potion that could be used to force someone to dream. They'd found it useful when interrogating unwilling prisoners. The thought that the Men of Letters had even experimented with such a thing unnerved Sam. He turned the page, but only found a thesis about why humans dreamed. Man, the Men of Letters sure were stuffy and boring at times. 

Feeling defeated, Sam pushed the book aside to have it join the other rejects. He folded his arms and rested his head atop them. Maybe he could call Cas. He immediately dismissed the thought. He didn't want to have Cas rushing down here - which he would - just because Dean was having nightmares. Everyone had nightmares. The ones they experienced were just more intense because of their dangerous lifestyle. 

Part of Sam felt ridiculous for even looking for an answer in any of the books. Maybe the real answer was to find a way to get Dean to open up. But he'd tried that already. Sam sighed. Maybe he really should call Cas. 

Just as he got his phone out of his pocket, something in the book he'd been looking at caught his eye. The subtitle _Nightmare Devourers _seemed to stare out at him from the page. Quickly, eager to see if he'd finally found something useful, Sam placed his phone on the table and pulled the book toward him. He read:__

_Nightmare Devourers are specific types of creatures or spirits that meet a certain profile. To be classed as a Nightmare Devourer, the creature or spirit must have the ability to consume one's dreams, specifically, but not limited to, nightmares. The manner in which they do so is not of import to this classification. Whether it be through entering a host and feeding on the amygdala, through dimensional transference, or through a psychic pathway, all creatures or spirits with such abilities fall under the classification of Nightmare Devourers._

_A Nightmare Devourer need not feed only on nightmares. Some, while having the ability, may not even do so at all. Rather, they might feed on the positive dreams that can manifest during sleep. Some consume the brain chemicals created from the dreaming process, while others may consume the dream itself. Creatures or spirits that are meant to devour nightmares, but stray from that path, are considered Rogues, and are highly dangerous. Victims of Rogues are often driven to committing suicide._

_It is possible to summon a Nightmare Devourer to use for one's own purposes. Many of the intended purposes of such persons are of the like that are too evil to write in here. One purpose however, is not so evil. One might have the intention of summoning a Nightmare Devourer simply to temporarily cure themselves, or others, of nightmares. While such intentions are pure of heart, one must be cautious in dealing with a Nightmare Devourer._

_The Nightmare Devourer with the least known cases of becoming a Rogue is the Baku. *A comprehensive list of Nightmare Devourers can be found in the following section. A Baku is a Japanese spirit. Oftentimes, a Baku may be mistaken for a demon due to the power it wields. However, this error is only made when working with the Japanese classification of demons._

_A Baku, intrinsically, is not dangerous. After being summoned and given a target, it will feed on the harmful emotions, and the essence, of a nightmare, and then it will leave. If summoned, it will visit the target of the summons while they are experiencing REM sleep. It will then wait till it senses a nightmare before feeding. However, as one can suffer through multiple nightmares during sleep, the Baku will not immediately leave. They will remain through the night, or until, subsequently, their target has awoken for the day._

_Summoning a Baku is fairly easy. All that is required is a talisman to put on one's bed at night. The talisman draws the Baku, and accurately directs it to its target._

__Sam stopped reading. Hope was beginning to flare up in him, giving him some sorely needed energy. This could help Dean. Despite the maybe five percent chance of the Baku being a Rogue, Sam was beginning to seriously think about this. Just to make sure he didn't get ahead of himself, he read the paragraphs about the Baku once more. Was the risk worth it?_ _

_Yes,_ Sam decided. _This is to help Dean._

__Just as he finished reading up on the talisman, Dean walked into the room. Sam's first instinct was to close the book as quickly as possible, but he fought it down. That would make Dean suspicious. So as Dean settled down in the chair across from him he slowly closed the book._ _

__Dark circles were under Dean's bloodshot eyes, and he was pale from sleep deprivation. With a groan he wiped his hands over his face._ _

__"You okay?" Sam asked._ _

__"Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine. Just more of those stupid nightmares."_ _

__"You wanna talk about them?" This was the last time he would try to get Dean to open up about them, and if he wasn't forthcoming, he would go through with his plan._ _

__Dean shook his head. "Nah. It's just part of being a hunter, I guess."_ _

__"Yeah. S'pose it is."_ _

__After blinking tiredly, Dean straightened a little. He gestured to the books. "Whatcha reading? Did you find us a case or something?"_ _

__Sam stood, gathering up the books, as he answered, "No case. Just reading for the sake of reading."_ _

__His back was turned as he put the books away, so he didn't catch Dean's affectionate smile as he said, "Nerd."_ _

__"Whatever," Sam said as he turned back to Dean. After his brother yawned he asked, "Want me to get you some coffee?"_ _

__"No, I'll get it," Dean replied, pushing his chair out to stand. He wavered for a second when he got to his feet, and instantly, Sam was by his brother's side, his hands out in case he needed to catch him. Dean whacked his arms aside. "I'm fine, Sammy." They locked gazes, and Dean appeared rather defensive. Still, Sam wasn't about to back down._ _

__"Dude, you clearly didn't sleep well last night. The least I can do is get you some coffee."_ _

__"All right, fine," Dean relented as he sat back down._ _

__Sam pat him on the shoulder, and started towards the control room. A hallway branching off from there led to the kitchen._ _

__"Put lots of sugar!" Dean called to him as he left._ _

__"Got it!" Sam responded._ _

__Sam thought over his plan as he got his brother's coffee ready. The Men of Letters had some artifacts stashed around the bunker. Somehow Sam would have to look through them without getting Dean suspicious. Maybe he could lie that he was looking for a weapon that could possibly stand up to Amara's power. Yes, that's what he'd do. He'd feel bad about the lie, but ultimately, it would help Dean._ _

__Satisfied that his plan was falling into place Sam focused more on the coffee. He couldn't remember... Did Dean like two spoonfuls of sugar, or four?_ _

__

__Dean gladly took a gulp of his coffee as soon as Sam handed it to him. He frowned from the bitter taste._ _

__"Did you even put sugar in this, man?" he asked as Sam settled down across from him._ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__"You sure you didn't confuse it with salt?"_ _

__As a response, Sam gave Dean one of his classic bitch faces._ _

__"All right, all right," he relented, bringing the cup back up for another sip. "I was only teasing."_ _

__Still, from the next gulp he grimaced. Noticing that Sam was watching him, Dean just decided to down the whole thing. After doing so, he set the cup down, looking at the table as he waited for his taste buds to come to grips with the bitterness of the drink. Definitely not enough sugar._ _

__"You good?" Sam asked, seeming amused._ _

__"Shut up," Dean responded light-heartedly, which set Sam off laughing._ _

__"Dude, you should have seen your face."_ _

__"I wish I could have. My face is gorgeous."_ _

__That made Sam laugh even more. It took some effort, but Dean joined in. Smiles settled on their faces, but Dean's quickly faded as he thought back to his nightmares. Being surrounded by dead bodies, the First Blade in his hand, the Mark burning like a fever. Darkness sweeping in and shrouding the horrors around him. Amara before him, the Mark now on her rather than him. She had smiled and caressed his cheek. The black clouds had vanished, and then there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. And Amara had disappeared as Dean fell._ _

__Despite all the nightmares he'd had recently, this one had been the most disturbing. The bliss that had flowed through him from Amara's touch made him feel unclean. The nothingness that he'd fallen into afterwards only gave him a heightened sense of urgency. They had to find Amara, and they needed a way to kill her. Stat._ _

__"Anything on Amara?" Dean asked._ _

__"Still nothing."_ _

__Dean groaned and put his head in his hands. "I can't take this anymore. When will we get a hit on her?"_ _

__"She has to make some noise eventually," Sam reasoned. "And if she means to end the universe like she says she does, then I doubt she's going to do so quietly." When Dean said nothing, Sam adopted a soothing tone, "Hey, we'll find her."_ _

__With a nod, Dean straightened. "Okay, so what do we got? Any hints on how to find her?"_ _

__Sam was leaning back in his chair, one arm extended as he tapped the table with a finger. Dean recognized this as a sign that he was thinking. Dean would be thinking about the same problem, but he was just too tired, and he felt like everything was dragging him down._ _

__An idea came to Sam - Dean knew based on the way he started in his chair, leaning forward._ _

__"I can search through the Men of Letters artifacts," Sam said. "See if there's anything powerful enough to take on Amara. Who knows, maybe there's even something to track her down."__

Dean doubted that would do any good, but when Sam was eager about an idea he was difficult to argue with. It'd be better to add to the plan, if it could even be called that. 

__"I'll call Cas and see if he's found anything. If he's sniffing at dead ends maybe I could get him to come here and help you out with the artifacts."_ _

__"Sounds good."_ _

__That was the end to their conversation and Sam left. Dean watched him go, and then sighed. He didn't want to call Cas like he said he would. He was just too tired. In fact, the table was starting to look like a comfortable place to rest his head. With a shrug he settled down._ _

_I'll call Cas later. No one can blame me for needing a little more sleep._

__This time, when he dreamed, he saw Sam and Cas floating in an ocean of blood._ _


	2. Not Worth Saving

"Hey, Dean." Sam's voice. God, it annoyed Dean, and made him become aware of an uncomfortable pounding in his head. He just wanted to sleep. He grumbled a complaint when he felt his brother start patting his shoulder. And then he was jostling him. "Dean, wake up."

Opening his eyes seemed difficult, but he did so. He straightened, wiped his hands across his face, and then gave Sam a smile that he hoped spoke volumes about his sour mood. 

"Hiya Sammy. How'd the artifact search go?" 

"Haven't finished," he responded. "So no Cas then?"

_Shit._

"Uh... about that-"

Sam crossed his arms as he cut him off, "You didn't call him, did you?"

"Come on, Sam. I just needed a little beauty sleep before dealing with him. You know how he gets."

Sam raised his eyebrows as a sign that he didn't completely understand what Dean meant by that.

"The angel's got full out anxiety, I swear. If he even thought something was wrong he'd abandon what he was doing. And what if he's found a lead? I don't want him to be distracted."

That was partially true. Dean knew that Cas worried about him. Oftentimes it took a lot of convincing to have him stay on target. So if Cas was actually having any luck Dean didn't want to interfere. The other reason, one that he almost hadn't admitted to himself, was that he didn't want Cas to see him like this; tired, irritable, and slightly hungover.

"Fine, I'll call him," Sam said, digging his phone out of his pocket.

That helped snap Dean out of his sleepy state, albeit temporarily. If anyone was going to call Castiel, he wanted it to be himself. He raced Sam in getting to his phone.

"No, I got it." 

Almost like second nature, he went to his contacts and found Castiel. He looked up after hitting the call button, holding the phone to his ear. Sam looked a little surprised, but then turned his lips down briefly as well as raised his eyebrows. Dean knew that facial expression, and it clearly meant that he wouldn't say anything about it.

The phone seemed to ring and ring. Then again, it could've only been Dean's imagination. He seemed to be running low on patience that day. 

"Damn it, Cas. Pick up the phone." 

Upon realizing that Sam was still there, Dean gave him a look. 

"Don't you have artifacts to dig through?"

Sam held his hands up in defeat. "PMS much?" he teased as he left the room. 

The comment didn't bother Dean. Rather, it made him realize he should probably stop and take a breath. He hadn't intended on snapping at Sam for everything, and he certainly didn't want to snap at Cas.

Despite how he'd felt a few moments earlier, when Cas finally answered with his usual "Hello Dean", a small smile lit his face. It was always a relief to hear Cas answer the phone like that. For the most part, it usually meant that he was safe. 

"Hey Cas. How are you?" 

"Unharmed, relatively safe. And you?"

Cas' answer made Dean smile even more. 

_Typical Cas._

"Good. Yeah Cas, I'm doing good."

"What is the reason for this phone call?"

"Can't I just call you to call you?"

"Dean, with the life you lead you have little time for social calls, and Amara is out there somewhere. You more than anyone understand how important it is to stop her." Cas paused, probably to let that soak in. "What do you need?"

"Well, have you found anything yet?"

"No. Nothing. I think she has warded herself. I sense no celestial presences nearby. I am assuming you want me at the bunker for something?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

The next words Cas said very emphatically, and Dean's heart seemed to skip a beat, "Dean, doing anything for you is never too much trouble.” Then he continued, and subsequently butchered what he’d just said, “Of course, in the literal sense some of the things I am required to do for you are quite challenging, and dangerous."

"Way to ruin the moment, Cas," Dean joked.

Still, Castiel forged on, "There is still nothing I would not do for you. And Sam."

"Thanks, Cas. That... that means a lot." Dean had to swallow past the emotional lump in his throat. To cover for that he ended up clearing his throat. "How soon do you think you can get here?"

"Two hours at the most."

"Wow, you're practically in the neighborhood."

"Dean, two hours is far from being, as you say, 'in the neighborhood'."

Dean smiled because everything about this conversation was so typically Cas. And he loved every aspect of him. 

Wait, love? Had he just thought that?

_No, damn it. I_ like _every aspect of Cas. That's it._

Dean felt that lie to himself twinge, nearly manifesting as a pain in his chest. After taking a deep breath to try and gain his focus again he said, "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Dean."

And with that the angel hung up. Dean sat there for a bit, thoughtful. What Cas had said about doing anything for him did mean a lot. The only other person who had ever had his back like that was Sam. Sometimes it was surreal to think that he had an angel watching over him, just like his mom had always said. 

_But what was that about me thinking the word love in relation to Cas?_

Even as a question that hadn't been spoken aloud, the lie was so clearly evident to him. He hated this feeling. Deep down he knew that he felt an incredibly powerful emotion when it came to Cas. One he was too afraid to give a name to. Because how could Cas feel the same way? Dean knew he was a mess. He liked killing things, he ate crappy food, he liked to tease people, he sometimes drank a lot, he lied to most women, and he'd gone behind Sam's back on multiple occasions. How could anyone, especially an angel, feel anything for someone like that? For someone who'd broken the first seal on Lucifer's cage half a decade ago? For someone who seemed to screw up time and time again, and get everyone close to him killed? 

There was hardly a part of himself that Dean liked, let alone loved. And the feelings he knew he had for Cas, he hated. Wasn't he supposed to be normal? Sure, he didn't mind when other people were interested in their own gender. In fact, he envied them for being comfortable in their own skin. How did they do it? 

He'd grown up assuming he knew who he was, but when he'd hit his twenties that had changed. Since then, it was like he didn't even know himself. And all the mistakes he'd made in the past two years just made it worse. He'd tricked Sam into letting Gadreel into him, he'd asked for the Mark without even understanding what it was, he'd slaughtered so many, he'd even killed Death himself. Now Amara was unleashed on the universe. It seemed impossible that things could get better. How could they?

Sometimes his dreams solely had to do with the Mark. Before, when he had still had it on his arm, he had thought those nightmares were bad. But they weren't. Not compared to the ones where his mind decided the time he had beat Cas needed to be on a constant loop. And the worst part of it was that his mind altered what had actually happened. It was the fear that he now felt for what he'd almost done to his friend. Every time that memory replayed in a nightmare, it always ended with Dean stabbing Cas in a bright flash of light, and then he didn't stop until his blood was everywhere, and until he was a nearly shapeless mass of flesh. 

He still carried that guilt around. Hurting Cas dug into him like a knife, as brutally as it did the times he'd hurt Sam. The guilt of all his mistakes never left. He just buried it. So if he was clearly right in hating himself, then why didn't Sam hate him? Why didn't Cas? 

Hatred was all he deserved.

 

Sam had found the talisman. He held it up to better examine it. Though a Baku had no corporeal form, or so the Men of Letters book had said, the way they were physically depicted was so... odd. The thing had the body of a bear, with an elephant trunk, the feet of a tiger, an oxen tail, and the eyes of a rhinoceros. 

"You're really ugly," Sam told it. 

Of course, the talisman had nothing to say on the matter. 

The figurine was made of wood, and was coated in faded paint. It was small, so ugliness aside, Sam put it in his pocket. 

_I'll have to sneak into Dean's room later._

Though he was convinced he was doing the right thing, apprehension had settled on him when he found the talisman. Sam had to admit, it was a little creepy that a spirit was going to feast on his brother's nightmares, but that's all it would feast on. Dean needed this reprieve. The armor he displayed to everyone was cracking and falling away. He was losing the ability to make sure he was strong, to take care of himself. Sam knew that there was something dark, like a sickness, in his brother's mind. He knew that right now he didn't want to take care of himself. Sam could see it in his eyes, and it broke his heart; Dean didn't think he was worth saving.

Sam felt more resolute in his plan as he started putting the artifacts he'd shifted through back into their boxes. Just to make his lie more believable, he really had gone through each and every one. Besides, the Men of Letters had collected such interesting things. 

When Sam went back to the library, Dean wasn't there. He went to check his room first, and seeing that it was extremely lacking in his brother's presence, Sam took the time to hide the talisman in the bed frame. He did so as quickly as he could, knowing that Dean might very well step into the room at any moment.

With the talisman safely hidden away, waiting for night, Sam searched the bunker. He had half expected to find him on the kitchen floor, a beer bottle in his hand, and his eyes seeing far away to dark things. 

But instead, Dean was washing the impala. With amusement, Sam noticed the short jean shorts he was wearing. He thought it better to not comment, even though something sassy was waiting on his tongue. 

Having heard him enter, Dean turned around and nodded his head to him in a greeting. Then he went back to rubbing circles into the hood of the car with a sponge. 

"Hey," Sam said, walking over to a silver 1951 Chrysler nearby and carefully resting his weight on the hood. "So what's the word on Cas?"

"He'll be here in an hour, though at this point it'll be useless. I assume you finished your nerd session."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Nothing. I mean, it was a bit of a long shot to begin with."

Dean shot him a reproachful look. "That's real encouraging, Sammy."

"What? I'm just being honest. It was an archangel who locked the Darkness away last time. Maybe he can do it again."

Talking about this specific archangel made Sam wildly uncomfortable. It nearly brought up horrific memories, but he somehow found the strength to push them down. 

"Yeah, and Lucifer had help from God." 

Sam inwardly cringed at the archangel's name. He didn't even want to think it. 

"In case you hadn't noticed, God isn't really answering phone calls right now."

"Dean, the visions I-"

"No," Dean said, turning to him. His face was set and his tone had been resolute. He pointed the sponge at him, making soapy water slop in between them. "We've already talked about this, Sammy. I won't have you going back into that cage." 

Sam stood, taking a step towards Dean. Anger was beginning to burn within him.

"No, _you've_ talked and already came to a decision. Do you think I'm too stupid to make my own choices?"

"Yeah," Dean answered immediately, making Sam draw back in shock. "When it comes to this, you are. How do I even know you don't have some creepy ass form of Stockholm Syndrome?" Sam tilted his head at Dean, making sure it was obvious that he was looking down at him. Of all people, Dean should be the last person to think that was what was going on. Realizing his mistake, Dean placed the sponge on the car before he held out his hands apologetically. "I don't mean that, Sammy. But _God_ wants _you_ to see _Lucifer_? Come on, you have to realize how bad of an idea that is. I mean, it's _Lucifer_ we're talking about here. _Lucifer_. _The actual Devil._ " His last words were punctuated with him tapping the fingers of his right hand to the palm of his left.

Hearing his name said three times in the span of less than a minute made Sam's skin crawl. He crossed his arms, not wanting Dean to see how uncomfortable he was. Though, he had a feeling his clenched jaw betrayed him, and the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"I'm well aware," he said tersely.

While it had been a year and a half up here without his soul, it had been much, much longer in Hell. Longer by about one hundred seventy nine years. He knew the true nature of the Devil better than anyone. So shouldn't Dean understand what it meant for him to speak up about his visions? To realize what had to be done? 

Dean shook his head, rubbing a hand across his face before replying, "You're not going back in that cage, and that's that."

Knowing that the conversation was over for now, Sam left. He hadn't meant for things to be so tense between the two of them. But maybe when Cas arrived Dean would lighten up. He wasn't sure his brother realized it, but having Cas around helped him. There were just some ways that Cas was able to reach Dean because of the special bond they shared. 

It meant a lot to Sam that the angel cared about his brother. That was why Castiel meant so much to him as well. He was family. A brother, really. Well, to Sam at least. He knew Dean wasn't comfortable putting any sort of term to his relationship with Cas. He thought maybe he was getting closer though, growing more comfortable with himself. It was a slow process with his brother, but he'd make it there eventually. And Sam would be so proud of him.

But the nightmares weren't helping any. 

He had walked to the kitchen, and in that time, his initial anger had cooled down. Now it was more on the back burner, so Sam set to fixing lunch for the two of them. Dean was the better chef, but Sam didn't think anyone in their right mind would turn down a grilled cheese sandwich.

Dean entered the kitchen, back in a pair of jeans, just as Sam was finishing up.

With the tension between them, it felt like there was only room for one in the kitchen. 

Dean sighed. Sam just kept on what he was doing. After putting two sandwiches on each plate he'd grabbed he brought them over to the table. Not really in the mood for talking just yet, Sam picked up his first sandwich and took a massive bite.

He felt Dean's forlorn gaze on him. He met his brother's eyes briefly as he looked up from his food. Then Dean joined him at the table.

"Sammy, I'm sorry about earlier. What I said... it was stupid. I know how hard this must be for you. I just..." His voice caught in his throat, and Sam swallowed. The tears in his older brother's eyes sent his appetite packing. "I don't want my little brother to get hurt again. I can't let that happen to you, Sammy. I-I-I can't even understand what you've been through. And that scares me. It scares me more than anything. I know I'm supposed to be there for you, but... how, man? How?"

Sam reached across the table and gripped Dean's shoulder. He made sure to meet his eyes before saying emphatically, "What Lucifer did to me is my own fault. I said yes. I consented to all that torture. And I didn't do it just to save the world. It was to save you." 

Dean looked away, and he swallowed roughly before saying in a quiet, distraught voice, "Well maybe you should've just let me die."


	3. Lies

The yellow light blinked out as the red one blinked on. Castiel was careful to make sure his car didn't pass over the line. Most times he didn't feel aggravation from red lights as the humans did, but when he was trying to get to the bunker, that was different. He wasn't aggravated per say. It just inconvenienced him.

He thought back to his phone call with Dean. His words were positive, and though it seemed he had tried, his tone hadn't quite matched them. Something was going on. Did it have to do with Amara? Perhaps not. Surely the Winchesters would tell him if it was something as urgent as that. Still, Dean had sounded... off. 

The light turned green and Cas was relieved to be on the move again. For some reason or other the Winchesters needed him. Dean needed him. 

When Cas entered Lebanon, Kansas, he decided to call Dean, just to let him know he was almost there. It wouldn't do to show up while he and Sam were in the middle of something. Also, he was curious to know what they'd possibly need help with.

There was no answer from Dean’s phone, but Sam picked up his almost instantly. 

“Hey Castiel. How far out are you?”

“Twenty minutes at the most,” Cas answered. Sam didn’t say anything, but Cas could easily picture the way he must be nodding his head. “Sam, I have to ask, what will I be required to do?”

“Uh… well, it’s complicated.”

“In my experience with humans, complicated usually means that someone is involved with something that may be considered bad under certain circumstances,” he said bluntly. 

_So there is something going on,_ he thought. _I wonder if it is something to do with Sam, or Dean._

There was an awkward pause as Sam most likely struggled to collect himself. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

Before Castiel could say anything else, Sam hung up. Slightly irate that the younger Winchester had hung up on him, Cas pocketed his phone with a frown. 

“What are you hiding, Sam?” he said to himself.

Well, he supposed he’d find out soon. Whatever it was, maybe he could help lead them on the right path. Like all humans, and all beings (in Castiel’s experience), the Winchester’s tended to stray from righteous virtues at times. He didn’t blame them, and he always understood why they did the things they did. Cas just hoped he could step in before things got out of hand.

Castiel loved the Winchesters. He considered them family. But it was difficult for him at times. The times when Cas visited them just to visit, or “hang out” as they put it, were far and few between. It wasn’t necessarily their fault that the universe decided to throw so much at them, and Cas would never leave them to deal with things on their own, but it would be nice to “hang out” with them every once in awhile. To watch a movie (since they seemed to love them so much), or to… well, what were other things that humans liked to do for fun? Even when he’d been human he hadn’t been sure, and there hadn’t been sufficient time to experiment with anything. One of these days, Cas would have to sit them down and ask them. 

But first, he had to deal with whatever Sam was up to. Clearly he was doing something that had questionable morals. Castiel sighed. 

Upon arriving at the bunker, Cas was given a warm greeting from Sam. At first he was taken aback when the larger man hugged him, but it wasn’t too hard to reciprocate. 

“Sam, it’s good to see you.”

After saying hello to his friend, he scanned the war room, searching for Dean. 

“You too, so anyway, about earlier-“

“Where’s Dean?” Cas asked with a tilt of his head, eyes squinted.

Sam wasn’t phased by the interruption, and answered, “Think he went to take a nap, like, half an hour ago.”

“So that’s why he didn’t answer his phone,” Cas mused. 

Sam led him deeper into the bunker, towards the library. He took a seat, but he didn’t slump down in it in his usual manner. For some reason he was tense. 

Castiel took a seat across from him. He wanted to ask the younger Winchester what was going on, but he knew that would make him feel pressured. So he waited for him to speak.

After an exhale that sounded more like a sigh Sam said, “Dean hasn’t been doing very well lately. I think it’s best to just let him sleep.”

With a nod Cas replied, “I understand.”

Sam’s gaze wandered, and he got a faraway look. Castiel wondered what he was thinking about. 

“Sam, not that I don’t like spending time with both you and Dean, but what am I here for?”

At his voice Sam gave a little start, and his eyes went to him again. “Oh, yeah, about that, I finished up what I thought I’d need help with. Sorry for calling you down here for nothing.”

“It’s fine. Two days ago I thought I picked up Amara’s trail, but it went cold a few hours before Dean called me. I suppose it’s best for me to be here right now.”

“Yeah.”

Sam didn’t seem as forthcoming as Castiel had thought he’d be, so he leaned forward and said in a softer tone, “So what’s going on with Dean?”

“Nothing, he’s just-“

Just then, they heard heavy clumps as Dean approached from his room. Sam immediately closed his mouth and he straightened when Dean appeared in the doorway.

“Feel any better?” Sam instantly asked him. 

“Oh, I feel awesome,” Dean answered with genuine enthusiasm. Haven’t slept like that in a long time.” His eyes wandered to Cas, and the smile he had on his face widened. “Cas!” he exclaimed, rushing over to him. 

Cas stood as Dean came over, knowing he was about to be pulled into a hug. When his arms wrapped around him he found himself sinking into the warmth of his body. He inhaled peacefully, his musky scent filling his nostrils. 

They pulled away, and Dean clapped a hand to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s good to see you, Dean,” Cas told him with a smile. He looked at him quizzically, his head tilted. “Are you feeling all right?”

Dean’s mood seemed to drop, and he looked from him to Sam. He realized the questioning look on Dean’s face. Sam must have answered it with an expression of his own because Dean turned back to him. And then he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Course I am.”

_Why must Dean always lie about how he feels?_

He lowered his head a bit and raised his eyebrows; a look that told Dean he could see right through him. He always could.

“Dean.”

A nervous laugh left the other man before he spoke, “I’m fine, Cas. Really.”

Castiel decided to concede. He knew how Dean was. Emotions were not something he liked to talk about, but maybe sometime later he’d open up about what was going on. He wondered why Sam hadn’t. Did Sam do something?

“Trust me, Cas, he’s all good.”

He turned to him, studying his face. While humans told lies with their words, their body language and facial expressions betrayed them and spoke the truth. The Winchesters were good about making everything line up while telling a lie, and Cas had to admit that he was better at reading Dean, but he saw something in Sam’s eyes. He knew something, and he didn’t want either of them to know about it.

Cas came to a decision. “Dean, I need to speak to your brother in private.”

Sam swallowed roughly, knowing he’d been found out.

“Why? Were you two having a moment when I walked in?” Dean questioned sarcastically.

He turned his gaze to Dean, whose amusement died when he saw his stern look. 

“It is crucial that I speak to your brother.” When Dean didn’t move he added, “Alone.”

He gave a shrug, and started walking away. “Whatever.”

Sam swallowed roughly as Cas sat down across from him. 

“Tell me what’s going on.”


	4. What Do We Do About Sam?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I let you read the chapter, I have a message for you all. I love reviews! Think of me as an angel of writing (jk, I'm probably not deserving of that, but this still fits for my analogy) and reviews are grace. Recently, for writing my fic 'Don't Call Me Sammy' I've been cast out of Heaven, and robbed of my grace (it was apparently a work worthy to be Satan's reading material). Basically, I'm dying. And reviews are like grace. Please show your support and give me some grace.

“I’m not sure Dean would want me telling you this,” Sam told the angel.

The voice of his younger brother traveled easily to Dean’s ears; he was obscured from view just around the corner, hell bent on listening in on the conversation. Sure, Cas had wanted him to leave, but that just made Dean suspicious. 

“You know how he gets about things,” he continued. 

_What’s that supposed to mean?_ Dean thought.

“I do,” Cas replied. “But Sam, if there is any way I can help him.”

“He doesn’t need your help. We’ve got it taken care of.”

_Is this to do with my nightmares? What does Sam even mean “we’ve got it taken care of”? All I had was an hour of nightmare free sleep. That doesn’t mean I’m in the clear._

Cas’ voice was stern with his next words, protective, “I’ve seen the way you two take care of each other, and I know you don’t always do so in the right way. I sense that something like that is happening now, so tell me what is going on with Dean.”

_Damn it, Sammy, don’t tell him about my nightmares,_ Dean thought with a frown. _They’re just some stupid dreams._

He nearly stamped his foot and muttered a curse when Sam admitted, “Dean has been having nightmares. Really terrible ones, and the way he’s dealing with them…”

Dean was relieved when his little brother trailed off. Both Cas and Sam knew about his “drinking problem” as Sam had once called it, but Dean was ashamed whenever it was mentioned in a serious manner. It wasn’t like he drank all the time, just when the going got rough, and lately, it was more than that. Alcohol seemed like the only relief from his nightmares.

It was easy to picture the way Sam must have shrugged before continuing, “Anyway, I thought I’d do something to help him.”

_What!_

“And you did what, exactly?”

“Nothing bad,” Sam blurted out, “just… a little out there, I guess.”

Dean swallowed roughly. What had his brother done to him? He knew Sam was smart, but he also knew of the risks he’d take for him. Hell, that was why the Darkness had been released in the first place. He knew Sam hadn’t done anything on that grand a scale this time, but the fact that he’d done something to help him yet again made him sick to his stomach. Dean knew if the tables were turned he’d probably make the same decision, but he had thought they were going to work on that. 

Anger, fear, and disappointment welled up in him, causing his muscles to tense, but he remained rooted to the spot, wondering if Sam would tell Castiel what he’d done. 

Cas’ exasperated sigh met Dean’s ears, and then Sam went on, “Please, Cas, just give me some time to get this sorted out. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”

Then there was silence. Castiel was most likely staring at Sam with that intense gaze he sometimes got. Even from around the corner Dean could feel the tension in the room.

“Then until you get this _sorted out_ I’m staying, and if _anything_ happens to Dean, I’ll hold you accountable.”

Sensing the conversation had ended, Dean hurried out to the hall, keeping his steps silent. Cas’ threat sounded in his head again, making him unsure of which of the two he was more upset with.

_Can’t they just leave me be? This is embarrassing. I’m a grown ass man, not a baby._

After retreating to his room it took some effort to not slam the door behind him; he was getting the growing urge to punch something. He leaned his forehead against the door, balling his hands into fists and placing them against the door as well.

“Sammy, what have you done to me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. 

Silence encompassed him, and he felt very alone. But maybe less than a minute later he was disturbed by a knock on his door, the sudden sound making him jump.

“Dean, it’s me,” he heard Cas say, the low gravel of his voice slightly muffled. Dean took a deep breath. He didn’t want to talk to him right now. “Please let me in.” When Dean didn’t respond he insisted, “Dean, please.” After a pause, “You know fully well that if I wanted to I could simply break this door down rather than asking nicely to enter your room.”

Dean straightened, his hand reaching for the doorknob, but he was still unsure. 

“I know you heard my conversation with Sam.”

At that he flung the door open, looking at Cas with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open in astonishment.

“H-“

“I could hear you breathing,” he stated simply before Dean even got his question out, and then he brushed past him and into his room. 

Still a little startled, Dean closed his door, and then went to sit on his bed. Once he came to grips with the fact that Cas had let him listen in, he actually felt relieved. He had someone to help him through whatever was going on.

“Do you think we have anything to worry about then?” Dean asked him, tilting his head up to look at him. 

Cas looked down, a frown on his face. “I’m not sure. As you know, Sam wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“Yeah, and what the hell did he mean by ‘a little out there’? You think he’s messing with something bad?”

As Cas sat next to him on the bed, he said, “Something? Yes. Bad? Not necessarily.”

Dean couldn’t help but notice that they were sitting so close their thighs were touching. The physical contact made him feel a little warmer than it probably should. Rather than feel ashamed of that, he let himself enjoy it. He was there, with Cas. It was reassuring to know he had someone with him if Sam managed to screw things up again. 

“But I mean, when has anything good happened to us?”

“Good things happen to you on occasion,” Cas said, a hopeful smile turning his lips upward. 

Dean, still in a sour mood, “Yeah? Like what?”

The crystal blue of Cas’ eyes pulled Dean in, and he watched the way they filled with emotion. 

“I like to think that meeting me is one of the good things that’s happened to you,” Cas told him, his voice soft and sincere.

Dean’s mood seemed to lighten, like Cas’ words gripped him and pulled him from a dark place. He smiled at the angel, and twisted his body so that he could put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before letting go.

“Yeah, Cas, it really is.”

“I’m glad. Meeting you is also a high point in my life. Before, I was just an angel… following orders. Since I met you I’ve made some grave mistakes, but I’ve also done some things I’m proud of. And… I’m glad that I know you.”

This was too awkward now. Cas had shared some of his emotions. Cas was staring right at him, not hiding anything from him. Cas’ thigh was against his. They were sitting on his bed. 

This had all reached a place that Dean wasn’t okay with, so he just responded with a, “Right back at you, buddy,” and hoped that maybe that’d be the end of it. 

Dean nearly breathed a sigh of relief when Cas looked away from him. Cas’ face fell until he was frowning in that way he did when he was thinking. 

“What do we do about Sam?” he asked gravely.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, Cas. There’s nothing we really can do, short of torturing him. Sam’s stubborn. He doesn’t want us to know something, we probably ain’t gonna find out.”

“Maybe we don’t need him to find out what he’s done,” Cas pondered.

“And that means…?”

“We study him.”

_Cas might be onto something, but…_

“Won’t Sam know if we go all stalker on him?”

“We don’t have to go…” Cas paused, squinting his eyes in befuddlement, and when he continued he spoke more slowly, trying to make sense of what Dean had said, “all stalker on him.”

“Then how do we study him?” Dean asked, putting up air quotes when he said study.

Once again Castiel was giving him that intense stare. If they were talking about something different, and maybe if Dean took more than a couple seconds every few years to be okay with himself, then that stare would make his insides melt. But he wasn’t okay with himself, and what they were talking about definitely didn’t set the mood to sexy, unless of course you had some serious issues.

And Cas’ next words made him feel something that was very far from excited. A pit of anxiety formed in his stomach.

“We go through your memories.”


	5. Just Trying to Help My Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up all night (soulless people don't sleep), so this happened.

“My _what_?” Dean questioned, moving back from him. He wasn’t really comprehending what Cas had said.

“Your memories,” he answered. “Humans tend to forget the details of a moment when they are often of great importance.”

“Yeah, and?”

Though Dean was slightly freaking out, Cas was perfectly calm as he answered, “Perhaps you witnessed something about your brother’s behavior that could give us some clues as to what we’re dealing with.”

“Cas, buddy, I’m sorry, but I’m still stuck on the you going into my memories thing. My life isn’t a TV show.” 

Cas furrowed his brow. “I didn’t imply that it was. I’m sorry if I upset you, Dean.”

“Upset? Nah, I’m not upset. More like freaked out.”

“Why are you freaked out?”

“My angel buddy just told me he wants to make some popcorn and get a front row seat for a screening of the shit show that’s called my life. I think that’s something to be freaked out about.”

Dean knew that Cas wouldn’t really do anything to him without his consent (even though he’d done it a few times in the past, but hell, that was a few years ago), yet he still felt a little frightened when the angel took a step towards him. He bumped into his nightstand, and a deep rattling noise announced that the lamp was most likely about to fall over. Shadows drifted over Cas as the lamp wavered. Dean turned to try and straighten it, but then he felt closed in. When he faced forward again, Castiel was right in front of him. He tried backing up a little more, swallowing roughly.

 _Come on, Dean,_ he told himself. _This is stupid. It’s only Cas._

Thinking it was _only Cas_ wasn’t exactly relaxing because, damn, why did he have to stand so close to him? He could practically smell him. Well, more than practically. The dude smelled like cinnamon and watermelon, and it was a surprisingly pleasant mixture of scents.

 _Get back on track!_ Dean admonished himself. _You’re not a love-struck tweenage girl._

And then he found his focus for dealing with an angel wanting to get inside his freakin’ head. The idea unnerved him. How did it work exactly? What would Cas see? Would Dean have any control of it, or would he be like some poor kid forced to watch home videos of himself with his family and friends? Plus, Dean wasn’t even comfortable with Cas knowing about his nightmares. They were just dumb nightmares - nightmares which made him a total wreck and upped his habit for drinking, but still dumb just the same. 

_Why should Cas even care?_

Dean almost bothered to answer that question to himself, but Castiel cut in, “Dean, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It won’t hurt.”

“I’m more afraid of you skipping around in my head like it’s a free for all.”

Once again, Cas stepped closer. Dean didn’t know whether to feel afraid, really awkward, or slightly turned on. He might’ve been all three at once, though he didn’t like admitting that last one.

That was until Castiel’s eyes seemed to become liquidity with emotion, sadness and sincerity welling up in them. Despite Dean being taller by about an inch, Cas somehow managed to look down at him. Maybe he’d spoken too quickly. Despite the guilt that snuck up on him he managed to meet Cas’ gaze.

“Do you really think I’d violate you like that, Dean?” 

Slowly, Dean shook his head, and he did his best to convey with his eyes that he truly meant it. 

“This has to be your choice,” Castiel told him. “I won’t look through your memories without your consent. And it’s all right if you don’t give me it. What I’m asking of you, it’s a very personal thing, Dean. I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable.”

His gaze then dropped to the few inches of concrete floor in between their feet, and then back up at Dean. After an apologetic look he moved away from him, closer to the end of the bed. Breathing felt a little easier that way, and Dean was relieved. He tried to ignore the disappointment that also pricked at him. 

A tired groan left Dean as he sat on his bed. This was a lot to process in such a short amount of time. He rubbed his hands over his face, and then placed his head in them.

“I understand you have a lot to think about,” Cas told him. In his peripheral vision Dean saw him turn to leave. “I’ll give you some time to ponder everything.”

Before the angel even had a chance to lay his hand on the doorknob Dean lifted up his head, and requested hesitantly, “Stay with me?”

Castiel turned back around to face him. “Dean, you’ve explained to me about humans occasionally needing solitude after emotion-inducing revelations. I don’t mind-“

“No,” Dean interrupted. “I want you to stay. Honestly, man, in order to sort through all this crap I need to catch up on some z’s.”

And Cas did his typical confused head-tilt with the eye squint. “But, Dean… you’ve expressed that me watching you sleep makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’m too tired to care. Plus, I think I’d benefit from an angel watching over me. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn more about whatever freaky thing Sammy’s done.”

“What do you want me to do if you are having a nightmare? The way Sam, uh… seemed while mentioning your nightmares gave me the impression that they are causing you great emotional distress.”

“Jeez, Cas, don’t go throwing around words like ‘emotional distress’. It makes me feel like I need to see a shrink.”

“A… shrink?”

“Yeah, you know, a doctor who looks after crazy people.”

“If you are referring to a psychiatrist, then I can assure you that most of their patients are not deemed crazy and are actually quite normal,” Cas informed him, putting up air quotes when he said ‘crazy’.

Dean waved a hand at him. “Whatever. Just wake me up if I start tossing and turning.”

Closing his eyes, he lay back on his bed, shifting until he was comfortable, and then he crossed his arms over his chest. Cas’ shoes tapped against the concrete, and then there was a slight creak as he sat down in the chair at Dean’s desk. 

At first, Dean felt a little self-conscious, but truthfully, he was scared, and he did feel safer with Castiel watching over him. It was like he had his own personal guardian angel. 

“ _Angels are watching over you,_ ” his mom used to say to him, and then she’d give him a kiss on his forehead, her hand lightly stroking through his hair. 

Re-imagining that put him in a state of temporary peace that lasted just long enough for him to drift off to sleep.

 

Sam sipped at his beer before turning the page in the book in front of him. He’d dug through the Men of Letters archives, scrounging up what he could about Bakus, and even other types of Nightmare Devourers. Sam still stood with his belief that he’d actually done something good for once. At least, he wanted to, but the way Cas had reacted to finding out that he’d done something to help Dean put him on edge. Yes, Castiel cared about his brother, and yes, he could get a little intense at times, but he was smart. Usually if Cas was worried, that was a fact that shouldn’t be ignored. 

Anxiety pricked at Sam, heat rolling in his stomach, as he looked through the book. He’d read multiple accounts of people summoning Bakus to eat their nightmares. Hell, even a few Men of Letters had done it. But he had to read through everything they had. He had to put this to rest. 

Curiosity getting the better of him he skipped a few sections, wondering if it was possible to kill a Baku.

Sadly, looking into that yielded no results. Apparently the Men of Letters had never encountered a Rogue Baku, so they didn’t take the time to learn how to kill it. Although, one of them did write a note about the right kind of spell possibly being able to do the trick.

 _Wait, why am I even looking into this?_ Sam thought. _It’s not like anything has happened to Dean. He’s fine._

But Castiel was worried.

With that thought in mind he went back to where he’d been before getting distracted, the pages rustling as they were turned and brushed together. 

It was all the same, but Sam knew he should go through it. He was actually beating himself up about not doing this before summoning a Baku and making Dean its target.

_Stupid._

Friendly encounter, friendly encounter, friendly encounter. Nothing pointing to it being dangerous for pages. And then he got to a full write-up of everything the Men of Letters had known about Bakus. It was smaller than the other creature and spirit write-ups he’d seen from them, but then again, with something that appeared so naturally friendly, they wouldn’t have much research to do. Sam read, his anxiety growing alongside his hope. There was the chance he hadn’t messed up, that Dean would be all right. But the more he read, it was possible that he was getting closer to the dark stuff. The other book that had first introduced him to Nightmare Devourers had mentioned something about it being rare for Bakus to turn Rogue. The rare part was good, but the fact that it was still possible didn’t sit well with him. 

His heart seemed to stop when he found it. In an instant, uncomfortable, sickly heat flared through him, and he straightened, pulling the book closer. He read the paragraph over and over again just to make sure he hadn’t gotten confused. He memorized it, even. 

Sam pushed the book away from him, leaning back in his chair. He gripped the edge of the table with both hands as he swallowed roughly. 

Dean was most likely screwed, and it was all Sam’s fault.

 

Dean didn’t sleep for long. Maybe a few minutes at the most. There’d been no time for nightmares, but he knew deep down that they wouldn’t have been a problem anyway. He didn’t know what, but something was wrong. He could feel it. It was like this other presence had been with him. He’d only felt it while asleep. It felt like he’d been getting stared at by a stranger. A really creepy stranger who should really mind their own damn business. 

That feeling of unfriendly eyes on him shocked him awake, and he shot up, gasping.

Cas was on the bed with him in an instant, grabbing his left shoulder. 

“Dean? Dean, are you all right?”

When he caught his breath, Dean looked to him. “Cas please, I need you to find out what’s happening to me.”

And with that, Cas put two fingers to his forehead, and Dean was no longer in his room. He gasped at the sudden change. 

He didn’t feel any different, but he knew this was a memory. He could tell because Sam was wearing the same exact clothes he was wearing the last Dean had seen of him, and he had the same books from that morning open in front of him. And in he walked, past him, looking tired as all hell. 

“You okay?” past Sam asked.

Past him responded, “Yeah, Sammy, I’m fine. Just more of those stupid nightmares.”

“We should look at what Sam’s reading,” Castiel suggested, making Dean jump. He’d almost forgotten about the extra pair of eyes looking at his memories. “I saw him tense a little just as you walked in. Whatever is in that book, he doesn’t want you to see it.”

Dean nodded before walking over to the book. To his dismay, Sam had already started closing it. He only got a glance at two words, _Nightmare Devourers_. 

“What the hell have you done to me, Sammy?” Dean whispered.

He made sure to glance at the cover, and commit it to memory. He’d have to sneak a look at the book when Sam wasn’t around. 

Then, Dean kind of idly watched the conversation play out. Castiel seemed to be studying everything about the scene before him. It actually made Dean feel rather self-conscious. He remembered not wanting Cas to see him in that state; tired, upset, and slightly hungover. And now he was examining it like there was going to be a test. 

The memory faded, reality seeping in, the brighter colors of the library being replaced with the slightly more dull tones of his bedroom, as past Sam left to get past him a cup of coffee. 

“Anything?” Dean asked Cas in a rush, not even bothering to shrug off his disoriented feeling. 

He was desperate. Those invisible eyes watching him… Dean shivered.

“Same as you, I presume. Just the cover.”

Dean shook his head, feeling a little better that he’d managed to catch something Cas hadn’t. Maybe Cas would know about this.

“No, Cas, I saw something else.”

Cas shifted closer to him on the bed before inquiring, his tone urgent, “What?”

“Nightmare devourers.”

Cas froze, looking horrified. In fact, he looked a little sick.

Dean grabbed his shoulder and lightly shook him, trying to get him out of whatever weird mental state he’d gone into.

“Cas? Cas, what does that mean? Do you know what that means?”

His gaze refocused and he directed it at Dean. 

“I need to find Sam,” he growled out. 

In less than a second he was up from the bed, Dean too startled by Cas’ sudden mood change to do anything to stop him. The angel was out the door before he’d even had a chance to get up. 

He stalked his way down the hall, and Dean had to jog to catch up. 

_Damn, he can move fast when he wants to._

They rounded the curve in the hallway, and both men paused when they spotted Sam. Sam looked in a hurry, his eyes wide. He took a step back when he saw Castiel. Dean didn’t even need to see the angel’s face to know that he was pissed. And likewise, Dean was pissed. He balled his hands into fists, watching to punch his brother for being so stupid.

In those seconds in the hallway, where the only thing that could be heard was their heavy breathing, a realization passed between them. Sam knew that they knew. 

He took a step forward, hands out as he pleaded, “Just let me explain.”

With a cry Cas lunged at him. Dean was torn between joining him and tearing him away from his brother. Sam grunted as the angel slammed him against the wall with a bang.

“Cas, please, just listen. I didn’t know. I swear. I didn’t know.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dean shouted, going up to them when Cas punched his little brother square in the face. “Cas, no punching till we know what’s going on!”

Both men ignored him, and Cas yelled, “You’re supposed to be smarter than this Sam!”

“I thought…” Sam started, his voice loud, but then he stopped. His breathing was shaky, and guilt swept over his features. “I thought I was helping Dean,” he continued in a softer voice. “Please, Castiel, you have to understand. I was just trying to help my brother.”

“You’re _always_ trying to help your brother. First Amara, now this?”

“Hey, Cas, don’t go off on him like that. I’ve done some sick crap thinking it’d help him. It’s what we do.”

Castiel finally turned to him, his cheeks flushed with anger. “I don’t _care_ if this is what the two of you do. Because of him…” he trailed off, swallowing back what looked to Dean like terror, sadness, and desperation. He went on in a quieter voice, “Because of him you won’t…”

Dean took a step forward. “I won’t what?”

Cas turned his gaze to the floor. Dean watched as a single tear slipped from his eye, darkening a tiny spot on the gray marble as it landed.

“You won’t have a soul,” Cas finished.

“ _What!_ ” Sam and Dean shouted in unison.


	6. Dean's Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm honestly curious to know what you guys think about my writing. Don't be shy!

Sam and Dean’s voices seemed to reverberate throughout the curved hallway, but it barely registered to Castiel. His grip on the younger Winchester didn’t seem to be registering anymore, and neither did the floor beneath his feet. The little darkened spot on the floor where his tear had fell captured his attention for a bit. It was so… odd. He just felt numb. Like everything had become so overwhelming that he had stopped feeling. 

Cas looked up, to Dean. Emotions came rushing back. 

Anguish. Terror. Anger.

But with a look at Sam he remembered himself. Castiel took a step back, letting his hands drop by his side, where they clenched into fists. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, and trying to at least calm down enough to speak. 

So Sam hadn’t even known? Then what did he find out? Cas supposed it didn’t matter much anymore. Now they all knew what was going to happen to Dean. 

No.

What Castiel was going to stop from happening to Dean. He didn’t care what it took. Cas would not let Dean have his soul taken from him. 

“Hey, Cas, you mind, uh, doing a bit of explaining here?” Dean asked, moving closer to him.

“Just give me a moment,” Cas said in a quiet voice, still trying to come to grips with the emotions that raged and battled through him. 

“Yeah, a moment? Don’t really have time that right now. You tell me I’m gonna lose my _freakin’ soul_ , and then you think it’s time for the silent treatment?”

“Dean, layoff. Just let him think.”

_What is wrong with you, Castiel?_

Usually his mind worked faster than this. Usually it wasn’t like trudging through waist-deep mud. But usually Dean’s soul wasn’t in such serious danger. 

His soul. He couldn’t let him lose that. He _wouldn’t_ let him lose that. It was what made him _him_. So funny, and brave, and selfless, and with such capabilities for compassion. Dean was a compassionate person, even if he refused to admit it. He just showed that he cared in very strange ways. That was one of the things Cas loved about Dean. And his quirks. He loved those too. How Dean would watch a chick flick and then claim he hated chick flick moments. How he enjoyed cooking and cleaning even though he seemed to consider it women’s work. How he’d sometimes laugh with his mouth full of food. Or how he’d get pie crumbs on his face and not care. Or how he’d call his car Baby even when Sam insisted it was weird. How he’d chew on a pen cap when he was thinking. How he’d smile after saying something sarcastic. But none of those stood up to what Castiel considered one of Dean’s greatest qualities. Nothing rivaled his strength, and his ability to persevere. No matter what beat him down, he always got back up. It was all these things that made up Dean. And now he was in danger of losing all of those. Of losing who he was. He’d be nothing but an empty shell. 

Such profound terror washed through him at that moment that he nearly fell. Dean noticed, and rushed to his side, his hands on his shoulders to support him. 

Castiel looked into his green eyes, and there he found the strength to explain to the Winchesters the situation they were in. “Dean, Sam summoned something to come and eat your nightmares.”

“A Baku,” Sam filled in. 

Cas ground his teeth at hearing his voice. Part of him wanted to beat the younger Winchester, but another part of him was sad; he didn’t want to be angry with Sam.

He quickly ran through all he knew about Bakus. That was when some of the tension left him. It was a Baku. So the process of taking Dean’s soul had yet to start. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t start at all. Maybe the Baku would eat his nightmares, and then be on its merry way. 

Castiel knew he was wrong about that one. Dean was a Winchester. This was going to be rough. 

He shook himself from his thoughts, continuing, “It’s already paid you a visit. Your nap from earlier, you mentioned that you didn’t have any nightmares.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice was thick with anxiety.

“That was because of the Baku. It ate your nightmares.”

“What’s so bad about that? It was about time I got some peaceful sleep.”

Sam stepped towards the two of them, arms crossed. He was looking at the ground, clearly weighed by guilt.

“That’s not all, Dean. A Baku doesn’t always _like_ someone’s nightmares. Sometimes the nightmares hurt them.”

“What, and you think the one you fed me up to is some kind of sissy?”

“No, Dean. It’s more than that. Your nightmares they’re… they’re pretty bad.”

There was thick silence in the hallway that seemed to press in on Castiel from every side, trying to crush him. 

“What your brother is trying to say,” Cas began, making sure he looked straight into Dean’s eyes, “is that there’s no question about whether your dreams hurt this Baku or not.”

Sam scuffed his shoe against the floor. “So the Baku’s most likely angry, meaning it’ll lash out.”

“And that’s where your soul comes in. It’s going to be very angry, Dean. It’ll finish consuming your nightmares because that’s it’s nature, but then it’ll move on, to your hopes and dreams, and then…”

“My soul.”

“Your soul,” Cas affirmed, nodding his head. 

 

Dean pulled away from Cas. He was afraid. Of course he was afraid. Who wouldn’t be afraid? And more than that. He was angry, disappointed. His brother had done this to him. And he’d done it thinking it would help him. So what was the first thing he drew on? Sarcasm.

“Well that’s just great,” Dean exclaimed. “Thanks, Sammy. Nothing like missing a soul to help get the job done. You’d know all about that.”

His brother clenched his jaw. “Dean, you know I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Yeah, well it did. Hey, I wonder if I’ll be more of a dick than you were when you were missing your soul. What do you think? Wannna make any bets?”

“This isn’t the time to joke around, Dean,” Sam snapped.

“You don’t think I know that! Hell, this is my soul we’re talking about here! And now we have _another_ mess to clean up because you couldn’t leave well enough alone!”

Oh god, now Sammy’s eyes were tearing up, his upper lip trembling. 

“I get it. I screwed up. But leave well enough alone? How could I, Dean? I’m the one who has to be with you, day in and day out. I’m the one who has to watch you drink yourself half to death because of how much pain you’re in. At first I thought, you know, whatever, it’s just Dean being Dean, he’ll be fine. But then it just kept going, and you were chugging more and more beer. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, hearing you call out in your sleep, hearing you scream. Tell me, if _I_ was the one suffering like that, could you just sit by and watch?”

Sam’s face became blurry in Dean’s vision. He wasn’t even sure when he’d started crying. Seeing his brother all emotional just messed him up.

“Come on, Sammy, don’t do that to me,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you know what I would’ve done. But that don’t make it right.” He sniffled. “None of this is right. What happened to the family business, Sam? What happened to saving people?”

“This was about saving you!”

“We were supposed to stop doing stupid crap like this!” Dean yelled, stepping towards him, gesturing wildly. “And then, at the first sign of trouble, you go and serve me up to this Baku thing like it’ll make our lives all better. It never works like that, Sam. You know it doesn’t.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let you run yourself to the ground? Let you break? I _had_ to do something, Dean. I had to. If you’d kept on going the way you were I would’ve had to _burn you_.”

“Well I guess you’re just gonna have to burn me anyway because life ain’t worth livin’ without a soul.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true!” Dean growled.

“Cas and I, we’re not going to let you lose your soul.”

Dean’s view of his brother got blocked when Cas sidestepped in front of him. In the heat of the moment he’d nearly forgotten all about the angel. 

“It’s true, Dean. We’ll figure something out.”

Despite the turmoil rushing through Dean, Cas’ few words comforted him. Perhaps it wasn’t just the words. Perhaps it was the compassion in his voice, the soft look in his blue eyes. Perhaps it was the way his lips so perfectly formed the words. Perhaps it was the fact that those words came from an angel. An angel whom Dean trusted. Castiel had let him down in the past, but he’d learned, he’d driven past those mistakes. The angel he was now, he was someone Dean could depend on. So despite how pointless those few words might be coming from someone else, Dean felt just a little bit safer.


	7. The Son of a Bitch Is Gone

Figuring something out turned into burning the talisman that Sam had hid in Dean’s room. Seriously, his room! Sam said that he’d had to hide it there, but still, Dean was less than pleased that his brother had been in his room. And that he’d hidden something in there. And that that something had made him the target for a spirit to come and eat his nightmares. Basically, Sammy had crossed one too many lines that day. 

Since Sam saw this whole mess as his responsibility, which it was, he set up the fire to burn the talisman all on his own, making sure to use holy oil as Cas had suggested. Now Dean, Cas, and Sam stood in front of the little fire as it crackled and popped, their backs to the wind in order to shelter the fire from it. 

As Dean stared at the fire his head began to pound. Not like the headache he’d had before, but _really_ pound. It felt like a hammer was driving against the inside of his skull. He tried and failed to hold back a wince. 

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, being the first to notice that he was in pain.

When Sam caught on he questioned, “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean grimaced, putting a hand to his head. “My head. I don’t know. It hurts.”

“Maybe it’s the Baku,” Cas suggested. “Perhaps it doesn’t want us to burn the talisman.”

“Then this’ll work,” Sam exclaimed, glad to finally have some hope.

“We… we don’t know that for sure,” Dean said, having difficulty talking through the pain. He held out his hand. Though this was hurting him it’d been his intention to burn the talisman. “Sammy, give it to me.”

He felt the oddly curved wooden object in his hand, and then hot pain flashed through him, blinding him. He collapsed to his knees with a cry, dropping the talisman. He had one hand on the cold ground to support himself and the other was tightly gripping Cas’ forearm. Oh god, the pain. It was a struggle to open his eyes, and he had to blink his way through tears in order to see the fire. 

Sam was kneeling beside him, trying to grab the talisman that Dean had unintentionally pressed against the ground. Dean clenched his hand, not wanting Sam to have it. 

“No Sam, I want to do it.”

“Dean, you’re in pain.”

“No!” he all but growled out as Sam dug around his fingers to try and grab it. 

“This is stupid. Just let me have it,” his brother huffed in exasperation. 

All the while the pain just kept growing and growing, but Dean was determined. He had to be the one to burn the talisman.   
“Sam,” Cas began, “let him.”

Now that Sam was no longer trying to take the talisman from him, Dean was able to relax his hand, and he allowed his brother to help him grasp it. Cas helped him stand, and right now, Dean was in too much pain to care. In fact, he even let himself lean against the angel, taking a moment to just sink against him and feel his hard body keeping him steady. 

Through his tears he could just make out the fire, blurry as it was. It was like just looking at the fire with the intent of burning the talisman angered the Baku more. There was a loud ringing in his ears, almost like a harsh wail. 

Groaning and grunting through his pain, he held his shaking hand out over the fire. The ringing grew louder, the pounding in his head turning into hot stabs. But he did it. He dropped the talisman into it, just ready for it to burn. 

Nothing happened as the first tongues of flame licked hungrily at the wood. But then the talisman began to blacken and burn at a drastic rate. A wave of energy burst from the fire, heat and sound showering over them. The force was so powerful the three men were tossed backwards, the air knocked out of them. A clash sounded in Dean’s head, and then he felt it. The presence of the Baku was gone, and with it, the pain and the ringing. 

He groaned as he clambered to his feet, not at all bothering to get mad about Cas helping him. And he didn’t say anything when the angel continued to hold onto him, his strong arm wrapped around his waist. 

Dean wiped his face, blinking a few stray tears away, and then looked to Sam who was barely allowing himself to smile. He seemed to want confirmation from Dean first about whether the Baku was gone or not. 

“It’s gone, Sammy. The son of a bitch is gone.”


	8. Or Is It?

The next day Dean found them a case. Sam was reluctant at first, thinking that maybe Dean should take it easy, but in all honesty, he needed to get away. Cas joined them for that hunt. It went well, just a simple salt and burn. Still, Sam questioned Dean on how he was doing. And he was doing fine. He just wished Sam would quit worrying. Sure Dean hadn’t had any nightmares, but to him that just meant he was doing better. They’d all been there when they burned the talisman; the Baku was gone. Cas asked him about it, and he seemed so worried that Dean actually lied that he’d had a nightmare. 

A couple of weeks passed like that. Things seemed to finally be getting back to normal. Still no hits on Amara, but they were hunting. Sam no longer asked Dean how he was doing, but when Cas asked, Dean knew it was because he cared about him. Sam did too, just not in the same way. He knew how Cas felt about him, but he didn’t know how to reciprocate. Didn’t even know if he wanted to. The whole idea just still made him uncomfortable, but he had to admit, having Cas around was pretty nice. More than that, it was natural having Cas in the bunker with them, and Dean loved it. 

Another case came along, and the three of them ended up having to wipe out a nest of vampires. It was some time a little before midnight when they finished up, and now Dean was driving them back to the motel. The two brothers were pretty bloody from all the fighting, and just wanted to clean up, and as usual Cas remained spotless. Sam was tired, but Dean was wide-awake. Hell, it’d been quite a while since he’d felt so alive. 

“That was one hell of a hunt, huh, Sammy?”

“Dude, we’ll talk later,” Sam grunted out. “I’m…” he broke off as he yawned, “I’m tired.”

Dean gave his brother a perplexed look. That hunt had been friggin’ awesome. How did Sam _not_ have an adrenaline rush?

“Getting too old for adrenaline rushes?” Dean teased. 

Sam opened his eyes, and turned to look at Dean. “You’re older than me,” he pointed out,” an amused smile on his face. “So what does that make you?”

He pursed his lips as he thought. There was no way to respond, so he just said, “Well if you’re gonna sleep, how about I pull over, and you switch places with Cas?”

Sam turned to Cas, tilting his head back to look at him. “That cool with you?”

“Sure. That’s…” Cas paused, probably thinking about whether he should use Sam’s expression or not, “cool with me.”

So Dean pulled over, they switched places, and in less than a minute they were back on the road again, Sam soundly asleep in the backseat. They still had a good hour and twenty minutes before getting back to the motel. The vampire nest had ended up being really out of the way. 

“Are you all right, Dean?” Cas asked. 

It was his usual question after a hunt, but Dean wasn’t annoyed with it. It made his heart flutter thinking that Cas cared about him. 

“I’m freakin’ awesome!” Dean answered a bit too enthusiastically. 

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, Dean’s loud voice having woken him up.

Dean winced, but then chanced a look at Cas. His eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, an amused smile on his face. 

“That hunt,” he went on in a quieter voice, “it was great. Just getting to kill a bunch of vamps, not dealing with any moral crap… Man, it was just awesome. I feel energized.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Dean? I haven’t seen you kill like that since…”

“Since when?” Dean questioned when Cas didn’t go on.

“Since the Mark.”

Now that Dean thought about it Cas was right. He hadn’t killed like that since he’d had the Mark. But he certainly didn’t have it now. Heck, that was the reason for Amara being loose, and for the nightmares he’d been getting some weeks earlier. Killing those vamps, it had felt different than when he’d had the Mark. With the Mark it was like a fever had burned in him, urging him to slaughter. But back there, it’d been… fun. That’s all it’d been really. Pure fun, and it felt like it had relieved an urge of some sort. 

Dean put a hand on the angel’s knee as he assured him, “I’m doing good, Cas. There’s no need to worry.”

“If you say so.”

The angel didn’t seem to believe him, but Dean was glad he was dropping the subject. 

“So what about you, Cas? How are you doing?”

“Me, Dean? I’m not hurt, and I’m doing quite well.”

“Oh come on. Give me more than that. How are you _feeling_? You happy about being with me and Sam? You anxious about Amara? Anything.”

Dean wasn’t looking, but he assumed that Cas did his usual head tilt when he questioned, “Why are you asking?”

“Can’t I care about a friend?” Dean retorted before shooting him a look. 

“If you must know I’m rather happy. It’s nice to be with you.” After a significant pause he added, “And Sam.” Dean smiled, but it faded as Cas kept talking, “But there’s something you’re not telling me.”

It was difficult to act calm and collected while feeling like a deer caught in headlights, but Dean laughed off Cas’ statement. “Come on, buddy. I tell you everything.”

And that was a straight out lie. He hadn’t told Cas how he was feeling about him, _and_ he was lying to him whenever he asked if he still got nightmares. Dean was beginning to find it a little odd that he’d gone so long now without having one, but he felt fine. The Baku was gone. It had to be. He didn’t want to tell Cas because then he’d get all worried about what was most likely nothing. Dean didn’t need all that. The attention just made him feel vulnerable; he should be able to take care of himself.

“No you don’t, Dean,” Cas said, voice low. “I know there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

Dean’s energized state made him want to raise his voice, to argue. But this was Cas, so he didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt the angel like that. 

“And do you really think now’s a good time to talk about it?”

“Sam’s asleep, so it’s essentially just the two of us. I thought maybe you’d open up about whatever it is. I know you’ve been lying to Sam as well.”

“And you didn’t point this out earlier because why?”

Now Dean was starting to feel like an idiot. How’d he actually think he could get away with lying to an angel? 

“I thought it’d make things awkward,” Cas admitted.

“Yeah, well it kinda has,” Dean snapped. “But seriously, now? We just finished a hunt.”

“I’m aware.”

Dean gave a disgruntled sigh. Not so much at Cas, but at himself. Why was he even getting all worked up about this? 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Cas,” he told him after a few long seconds of silence. 

“Then tell me.”

“Man, you’re persistent.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, fine!” Dean shouted.

Consequently, Sam shouted from the back seat, his voice groggy with sleep, “Dude!”

“Just go to sleep, Sammy.”

“It’s a little hard when you’re yelling. Why _are_ you yelling anyway?”

“Just stay out of it.”

Cas cut in, “Dean, you really shouldn’t be so harsh towards your brother.”

Now he was glaring at Cas, and to his surprise, Cas glared back. Dean found that he just couldn’t win against those azure eyes of his, so he sighed. Maybe he should’ve felt more remorse for waking up Sam, but he didn’t. 

Still, he got out, “I’m sorry, Sam. Everything’s fine. Just go back to sleep.”

“I could assist you if you want,” Cas said, turning to reach over into the backseat, his pointer and middle fingers directed at Sam. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Sam exclaimed. “I think I’m all good, Cas. I can sleep just fine on my own.”

And with that Dean could hear Sam settling back down again. He and Cas waited a few minutes in tense silence before Dean said, “You’re right, Cas. I have been lying to you. The thing is, I’m…” he paused, still not wanting Cas to know, but he’d already started, so he might as well tell him, “I’m not getting nightmares. Haven’t been since the Baku.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Cas said, his voice now a bit loud. Thankfully Sam stayed asleep.

He leaned closer to Dean before saying, “This is serious, Dean. What if the Baku hasn’t left?”

“We burned the talisman it was attached too, and we were all there. We all saw it leave.”

“Then why aren’t you getting nightmares?” Cas reasoned. 

Dean shrugged. “How should I know? I’m not a psychologist.”

Both men sighed, and then Cas told him quietly, “I just wish you would’ve told me. There’s no reason to lie to me, Dean. I’m always going to help you. No matter what.”

Despite the energy that still raced through him, Dean felt calmed by Cas’ words, his anger receding. But he still had to make a point to Cas, so he said carefully, in a gentle voice, “I’m glad, but right now, I don’t need you’re help.”

“All right, but just know that you can always talk to me. I do enjoy most of our conversations.”

Dean found himself smiling as he said, “Yeah, me too, Cas.”

They got back to the motel without any other tense conversation topics. In fact, Cas had asked Dean what humans liked to do for fun. Just as Dean parked the Impala he was still in the middle of detailing Cas about _The Lord of the Rings_ ; the movies, not the books (Dean wasn’t much of a reader).

Before Dean could say anymore, Cas interrupted him, “We should watch them together some time.” Dean paused, his mouth open. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just don’t want any spoilers.”

“N-no, that’s fine. I get it. No spoilers. Hey, maybe we can do that when we get back to the bunker,” Dean suggested. 

“It’s a date,” Cas replied with a smile.

Dean choked up at that word, but Cas just kept giving him that damn smile. Did the angel even know what he was doing to him? He knew it was just a saying, but still, the word “date” coming out of Cas’ mouth in relation to the two of them made him excited. And nervous. Nervous because he still didn’t think his feelings for Cas were okay. Sure, two dudes could get together and he was fine with it, but Dean, he was just uncomfortable being one of those dudes. Plus, what would Sam think?

Speaking of Sam, he’d be a great way out of this awkward situation. 

“We’re here!” Dean announced loudly, hoping his brother would wake up.

And it was like he deliberately chose that moment to not be awakened by a loud voice. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Cas’ face, that smile just still had him captivated, his heart fluttering. Without looking he reached into the back seat to lightly whack his brother. 

Sam grunted, and then he muttered, “Dude, that’s my thigh.”

Slightly embarrassed, but wanting to hide it, Dean said, “Whatever. Just get up. We’re here.”

At that Sam shot up. “I call first shower!” 

There was the telling creak of the car door opening, a slam as he shut it, and then he was hopping up the motel steps, key in hand. Dean was about to get out of the car, but Cas put a hand on his leg, the upper part of his thigh to be exact. His heart seemed to stop from feeling his hand on him, gripping him.

“Dean,” Cas began, his eyes full of sincerity, “thank you for telling me the truth earlier.”

Dean could barely speak, so after opening and closing his mouth for a bit, he got out, “Y-yeah… sure, anything.” And then he stared down at Cas’ hand, which still wasn’t letting go of him. “C-Cas, your hand.”

Relief and disappointment flooded through Dean when the angel finally removed his hand from his thigh. “My apologies.”

When Dean got into the motel room he shared with Sam, his brother was already in the shower. For some reason that made Dean annoyed. He just wanted to get cleaned up. He tried waiting patiently, but time just ticked on, and Sammy still didn’t finish up. With a sigh of defeat Dean grabbed his kit, and went to Cas’ motel room. He didn’t bother to knock, but the angel didn’t seem to mind. He was just watching the news on the old TV. 

“Hello Dean,” he said. Then he eyed what he was holding. “I’m assuming you’re going to use my shower.”

“If you don’t mind.”

Cas gave him a small smile. “Not at all. Take your time.”

A blush crept up Dean’s neck as he just now realized what he was doing, but he went inside anyway. The blood and sweat that covered him felt like an unclean layer that just had to be scrubbed off. 

Cas didn’t say anything else, and Dean went to take his shower. He’d planned on making it quick, feeling awkward about the situation, but once he got under the hot water that changed. Despite how awesome the hunt had been it felt good to wash away the signs of it. His tension left with it, so afterwards he felt really good. He changed into his pajamas after he’d dried up, not caring about Cas seeing him in them. 

In fact, he settled down on the bed with the angel afterwards. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but at the moment he wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact that he had feelings for his best friend. What was the big deal? 

Cas turned the TV off, giving him a surprised look as Dean joined him on the bed. 

Dean just smiled at him. “Hey.”

“What are you doing?” Cas asked in a quiet voice. Despite his words he shifted closer. 

Dean found himself shifting closer as well, one hand grazing Cas’ thigh. “Sam’s probably asleep by now,” he began, “but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Still got that adrenaline rush going.”  
“I see.”

“So I thought I’d just hang with you.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Dean moved his hand over Cas’ thigh, his thumb kneading his flesh, and he dipped his head closer. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, or why, but he just needed his angel. 

Cas’ voice was rougher than usual when he asked, “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Dean?”

As he spoke Dean was captivated by the way his pink lips moved. He leaned even closer, his face now inches apart from the angel’s. And his pleasant smell dragged him in even more. With a deep breath Dean brought his lips closer, just needing to kiss him. 

Right before their lips met Cas pulled his head back. “Dean, there’s something wrong with you,” he told him.

The rejection and Cas’ words brought instant tears to his eyes. 

“What, because I have feelings for my best friend?” he asked.

“No, it’s not that,” Cas said gently.

Dean pulled away, letting go of Cas. 

“Then what is it?” he growled out. 

Dean’s head was turned away from him, too hurt to look at him, but he just knew that Cas was squinting his eyes at him. “I don’t know, Dean, but this isn’t you.”

Alarmed, Dean turned back to him. “Of course it’s me! I can’t get possessed, so who else would it be?”

“It’s you, but not you,” Cas answered.

With a huff Dean got off the bed. “Sure, ‘cause that just makes perfect sense.” He went to the bathroom to go grab his stuff. 

“Where are you going?” Cas asked, his voice now holding exasperation.

“None of your god damn business,” Dean growled. As he turned to leave the bathroom he was shocked to find Cas standing right in front of him. He bowed his head, shame making his cheeks red. “Just let me through, Cas.”

“Promise me you won’t go do anything stupid,” Cas began, “I know how you are.”

Dean swallowed roughly. He was a mess of feelings right now, and just confused. Why had he even made a move on Cas? 

_I’m so stupid. Of course something like this would happen._

“I promise,” he muttered half-heartedly. 

After some deliberation, Cas stepped aside, and Dean brushed past him. He left the motel room without giving him another look, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Once back in the motel room he shared with Sam he looked at the analogue clock on one of the bedside tables. It read 1:47. 

Coming to a decision he went through his bag, looking for clean clothes. After throwing on some jeans, a black t-shirt and some flannel, he left. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but frankly, he didn’t care.

 

Sunlight streamed through the windows that were situated to the left of the motel bed Sam was in, bathing the room in light. Surprisingly he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, not even waking up once. After stretching and yawning he turned to look at Dean’s bed, wondering if his brother was up yet. Sam frowned and sat up. 

His brother’s bed was empty, still made like it hadn’t been slept in. But his stuff was still there, so he’d be back. Anxiety was the first thing that wanted to kick in, but he tried to tamp it down, as he got dressed. Dean hadn’t been there after he’d gotten out of the shower, but he’d assumed he’d just stayed with Cas. Maybe he was still there. That’s what Sam hoped. 

As Sam went to Cas’ motel room just next door he noticed that the Impala was missing.

_Shit._

He rushed over to Cas’ room, and banged on the door. “Cas, I don’t know where Dean is!”

At that the door opened immediately. Cas’ face was etched with worry, just as his own surely was.

“You mean he’s not with you?” Cas asked. 

Sam stepped aside as he said, “The Impala’s missing,” so Cas could see. 

Cas stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. Then, he looked down, a frown on his face. 

“This is my fault.”

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Cas, I’m sure it’s not your fault,” he assured. 

“It is.”

“How?”

His cheeks went a little pink as he looked up at Sam and admitted, “Your brother, he made advances towards me last night.”

Despite his nerves, Sam was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t sure when Dean would get around to that, or if he ever would. 

“Then that’s good, right?”

“No, I…” Cas hung his head in his hands as he trailed off. “I didn’t reciprocate.” 

Now Sam was confused. “But, Cas… I thought… I mean, don’t you care about Dean in that way?”

Cas looked to him, his blue eyes sad. “I do, but he wasn’t acting like himself. Something’s wrong.”

“I’ll call him,” Sam said. “Maybe he just went out for a bit.” Both men knew that last part was a lie, but neither of them said it. Sometimes it was easier to pretend a situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed. 

Sam dug his phone out of his pocket, and called Dean. He was surprised when his brother actually answered. 

“Hey Sammy.”

“Dean, where are you?”

“Relax,” Dean told him, and just as he said that Sam saw the Impala turning into the parking lot, his brother on the phone. As he parked he smirked at Sam, saying into the phone, “See? Safe and sound.”

He shot his brother one of his bitch faces, and then hung up. After Dean got out of the car, he went up to them. Sam noticed how he didn’t look at Cas, but Cas was looking him over, making sure he was okay. 

“You shouldn’t just go off like that, man. Where were you?”

“I’m fine, Sammy. I was just with a girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, the opposite gender with boobs and nice smiles. You may have heard of them?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean from a few years ago might’ve been out all night with a girl, and then say something slightly vulgar like that, but the way his brother was now, he was more mature than that. 

The three of them just stood on the steps in awkward silence until Cas said, anger clearly in his voice, “We should probably get back to the bunker.”

 

Sam felt awkward the whole trip back. Cas was upset, and Dean was pretending he was okay. Somehow he wanted to bring up what had happened last night with his brother, knowing it helped to talk about things, but whenever he said something about it Dean just mentioned something about the girl he’d been with. For Sam that was just too much TMI, and he could hear Cas let out some sort of an angry huff when she was mentioned. So Sam dropped the topic, realizing his brother was set on not talking about what had happened with Cas.

It was a long drive, so they ended up having to stay the night at another motel. Dean was so annoying because he was bent on pretending nothing had happened. He even made a point in acting okay, devouring a burger and fries like a maniac, followed by a slice of pie, blasting music and singing loudly to it and off-key. 

He was just glad he decided to stop when Sam said he was going to bed. 

Nightmares of the Cage woke him up early in the morning. He ran his normal mantra through his head as he shivered from cold sweat. 

_You’re not there anymore, Sam. You’re out. They got you out._ He _can’t get you._

The mantra eventually calmed him down, and he looked over to Dean’s bed, hoping his brother would be there. And he was, fast asleep on his side, facing away from him.

Usually Sam just suffered through the early hours of the morning, trying and failing to go back to sleep. But instead of doing that this time he reached for his phone and texted Cas.

_**Hey Cas. Can’t sleep. How r u holding up?** _

Not much time passed before his phone vibrated, and he had a reply. _**I’m mostly worried about Dean. Has he talked to you?**_

_**Nothing**_ , Sam replied. Sam waited, his hand resting with his phone, over his chest, but Cas didn’t reply. He got to thinking about what Cas had said yesterday morning. That he thought something was wrong with Dean. So Sam texted, _**What did u mean yesterday, when u said something’s wrong with Dean?**_

_**I’ll talk to you when we get back to the bunker.** _

And that was the end of the conversation. Sam let out a sigh. They still had a few hours to go before they made it back, and given the time Sam was no doubt going to be tossing and turning as he tried to sleep, that gave him maybe eight anxiety-filled hours before he could talk to Castiel about his brother. 

Trying to not be too upset, Sam put in his earbuds and started listening to music.

 

Castiel felt relieved when they got back to the bunker, though it hurt him when Dean just retreated to his room without even a glance. In fact, Dean had hardly said a word to him since the other night. 

Cas and Sam shared a worried look when Dean just went stomping off, but then they settled down in the library.

Sam wiped a hand over his face before saying, “So what do you think’s goin’ on with him?”

This had been in Cas’ mind for over a week now as he’d noticed Dean’s behavior slowly changing. His more recent behavior screamed it louder than words. And from what he thought, no, _knew_ what was happening, there was a pit that had formed in his stomach. It didn’t happen much since he was an angel, but he felt the hot pinpricks of tears at the corner of his eyes. 

Cas leaned forward before saying, “The Baku’s not gone, and I’m afraid it’s already taken some of your brother’s soul.”


	9. Goodbye, Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned on having this chapter play out much differently than it actually does, but Dean is a little shit who changed my plot. A little shit whom I love, despite what I'm doing to him. Hehehehe...

Seconds passed before Sam asked, “How is that even possible? We saw it leave.”

“It must’ve tricked us,” Cas explained. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it can’t be. Maybe it’s something else that’s bothering him.”

Castiel understood why Sam was refusing to believe him. He wished that this wasn’t real. It scared him to think that Dean’s soul was slowly being taken from him, being used as sustenance for such a vile thing. To him, anything that fed off of souls was pure evil. He knew that not all Bakus were like that; this one had simply turned Rogue, but it was something they’d have to take care of. Somehow. 

“No, Sam,” Cas insisted. “I know your brother, and everything that’s going on with him, it’s not normal. Haven’t you noticed?”

Sam scratched at the back of his head. “I mean, I guess he’s been enjoying fighting more than he used to. And he’s been eating more.”

“And obviously craving sexual attention,” Cas added, which made Sam blush slightly. 

Cas didn’t bother to inform him that there was no need for him to get embarrassed when sex was mentioned. Why did humans make such a big deal about it when it was a natural part of life?

“Okay, yeah…” Sam started, “But, maybe…” Then he paused, looking down at the table with a sigh. “That does sound like what Dean’s instincts would focus on.”

“Exactly,” Cas intoned. 

“When I didn’t have a soul, the only things on my mind were of pure instinct. It’s a little different for everyone.” He leaned forward. “Do you really think that’s what’s going on?”

“I don’t think, I know. Dean just isn’t acting like himself. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. And then, emotion welled up in his eyes. Cas wanted to be angry with Sam because he’d started all this, but when he watched his friend shed a single tear, he couldn’t. Sam hadn’t known. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt Dean. 

“Cas,” Sam’s voice was broken when he spoke, “I didn’t mean to do this to my brother.”

Watching Sam get emotional was making Cas get the same way. He’d tried to be clinical about it, but there was no denying how terrified he was. Dean meant so much to him. He was the man who had taught him free will. The man he’d follow to death’s door. The man who he’d sacrifice everything for if need be. So now, hot tears were making their way down Cas’ cheeks. It wasn’t often that he cried, but the thought of losing Dean was too much.

He wiped his face. As an angel, he felt like he had to be strong for Sam and Dean. They’d seen him in moments of weakness, but it’d always made him uncomfortable. 

“I know,” Cas assured him. “Despite my harsh words a few weeks ago, I don’t blame you.”

“But it _is_ my fault,” Sam insisted. “I’m the reason we’re both going to lose my brother.” He didn’t bother to wipe away his tears as they fell. Soon, Sam’s face was all wet, and tears were dripping from his chin. His upper lip trembled as he looked at Cas. “What do we do?” 

This wasn’t easy, but for Dean, Cas pushed past his emotions and answered, “First, I need to check on the state of Dean’s soul.”

Sam laughed through his tears. “Dean’s not gonna like that.” He sniffled before wiping his face with his sleeve. 

“No one would. It’s going to be incredibly painful.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I’ll talk to him, see if he’s willing to do this. If he’s not then I’m not sure what we’ll have to do.”

Sam’s tears had gotten under control, but his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. But Cas could see that his brain was working, planning. 

“I know my brother, Cas. That’s not gonna work.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

Sam’s answer was something that Castiel didn’t like. “We have to knock him out.”

 

It took some convincing, but eventually Castiel agreed with Sam. Dean was a difficult person at times, and right now, the state he was in, he would put up a fight if he knew what they were going to do to him. Sam didn’t feel like punching his brother to knock him out, and Cas didn’t blame him. They were going to end up having to hurt him anyway, so there was no use in putting him through more pain. 

The plan was simple. Sam would distract Dean, and Cas would sneak up on him and use his angel powers to render him unconscious. Cas just hoped all went well. Dean had incredible instincts for knowing when someone was sneaking up on him. 

For this they had to get Dean out of his room, so Cas had a chance to circle around him. Sam came up with the perfect plan. Food. 

Times like this Cas lamented the state of his grace. It’d be so much easier if he had it. He’d be able to turn invisible, fly into Dean’s room, and just knock him out without him even knowing what’d happened. But no. They needed to rely on a plan that could easily go wrong. Dean was a loose cannon at the best of times, and now was even worse. 

Sam went out to go pick up a burger and fries from the nearest diner, and Cas was ready when he got back, hiding in a hallway that Dean wouldn’t pass through on his way to the kitchen.

Cas heard Sam get Dean, telling him he’d gotten lunch. Dean seemed to be in a better mood just at the prospect of having something to eat. 

Once they were in the kitchen Cas silently made his way through the hallway, keeping close to the wall just in case Dean happened to look his way. The way he was sitting, Cas would be coming up behind him. Sam was sitting across from Dean, trying to get him involved in a conversation about wrestling. 

Cas managed to get right behind Dean, but that was as far as he got. With one look, the whole plan fell apart; Dean turned around to Cas just as he had his hand out to touch it to his head.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Nothing,” Sam lied. “Just finish your burger.”

Dean glared at Cas as he responded, “Not if he’s here.”

“Dean, it’s fine.”

Dean stood up, pushing Cas aside. “No, it’s not fine. Something’s going on here, I can feel it. I don’t know what you two have planned, but my gut’s telling me to run.”

“We don’t want to have to do this, Dean,” Cas told him as he stepped closer, making Dean take a step back. 

He furrowed his brows. “Do what? Sammy, what’s he talking about?”

Now Sam was standing as well, essentially making it so that they had Dean cornered. 

“We want to check on the state of your soul,” Sam explained. “See if it’s in one piece.”

“Of course it is!” Dean exclaimed. “What, do you think I made a dumbass move and sold it or something?”

“No. Whatever is happening, it’s not your fault.”

Dean stepped up to them, intending to go around them, but Sam and Cas closed him in. 

“Guys, let me through.”

Sam’s voice was soft when he spoke, “I’m sorry, but we can’t.”

Despite the hurt that Dean was no doubt still feeling he looked to Cas. “Why are you doing this?” he pleaded.

“Dean, I’d rather not, but I have to. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Before Cas even realized it, Dean’s fist was coming towards him. With no time to dodge, the blow knocked him backwards, his jaw throbbing. With Cas out of the way, Dean was lashing out at Sam. Sam was holding up well, blocking Dean’s attacks. Cas tried to lay a hand on Dean so he could knock him out, but Dean easily evaded, placing Sam in between the two of them. Cas could tell that Sam was holding back with his kicks and punches, not wanting to really hurt his brother, which gave Dean the advantage because he wasn’t holding back at all. Sam managed to land a kick to Dean’s ribs, but without the full force behind it Dean was only doubled over for barely a second. He swung out at Sam, catching him in the chin. Sam wrapped his arms Dean, trying to apprehend him, but Dean just beat his fist into his brother’s ribs until he let go, gasping for air. He threw another punch at Dean, one he easily dodged, and then he grabbed Sam, slamming him against the metal counter. The younger Winchester fell to the floor with a groan. He braced himself with one hand against the floor and tried rising to his feet, but Dean kicked him in the head. Sam cried out in surprise, and then he lay there unmoving. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean murmured before stepping over him. 

Cas now stood in between Dean and the doorways, and he wasn’t about to let him leave. 

“Cas, get out of my way,” Dean commanded. 

Cas stared intently at Dean, knowing that at times he found his gaze intimidating. But Dean could be intimidating as well. His green eyes weren’t what he was used to. Part of him was missing when he looked into them, and they were determined. Dean wasn’t about to just give in.

“I’m trying to help you, Dean.”

“Oh, are you? From here it looks a little different.”

“Is this because of the other night?”

He stepped forward, but Cas didn’t yield any ground. “It’s not,” he growled.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Dean gave a dark laugh. “Great, ‘cause you did. You really did, Cas. Do I disgust you? Is that it? Do you hate me for all the shit I’ve done? Because I sure as hell do, and I don’t blame you if you feel that way. But come on, Cas, can’t you just be honest with me? I mean, why do ya gotta get Sammy involved with this too? You’re pretty good at keeping up a lie, I must say.”

“I’m not lying. There’s something wrong with you.”

“And there you go again with the ‘there’s something wrong with you’. Thanks, Cas, ‘cause I didn’t know that already.”

Dean was approaching him slowly, a fire in his eyes, but Cas didn’t back up. If Dean just got close enough he could reach out and render him unconscious. But he was fast. Castiel would just have to be faster.

“That’s not what I mean! You think I don’t care about you? That I hate you? You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Then you got a funny way of showing it.”

“I _am_ showing it, Dean.” 

“Sure. Ambushing me when I have my guard down. Great way to show affection,” he snared, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cas took a deep breath, watching as Dean got closer. Just a few more steps…

“It’s your soul,” Cas began to explain. “I’m not sure it’s all there.”

“The Baku left, Cas! We all saw it.”

“It could’ve been faking it,” Castiel said, and this time, he took a step forward. 

“You stay right where you are, you hear me?” Dean ordered as he took a few quick steps back. 

“Dean, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Cas saw the way Dean’s eyes searched around the kitchen, taking stock of his surroundings and the situation. In a flash he jumped over the counter, opened a drawer and took out a large knife. Cas’ heart nearly broke when Dean pointed it at him.

“Don’t make me use this, Castiel.”

Though it was a different knife, and they were in a different room, Cas started to get flashbacks. He remembered the way he’d asked Dean to stop as he beat him. He remembered the darkness in Dean’s eyes. He remembered the fear he felt as Dean stabbed the angel blade downwards right beside his head. But more than that, he remembered the agony of those moments. The emotional pain had carved deep into him, wounding him more than any physical injury ever could, and all because _Dean_ had been the one to hurt him. And now, with all those thoughts and memories going through his mind Cas collapsed to the ground, tears in his eyes. 

“Please don’t,” he pleaded with Dean, looking up at him as fear took hold. 

Tears brimmed in Dean’s eyes, and he sniffled. But without saying anything he dropped the knife, making Castiel flinch. 

“Goodbye, Cas,” he told him, his voice gruff with emotion. 

And then he left.


	10. The Hunt

Dean’s hands were still shaking when he left the bunker in the Impala. He hadn’t wanted to threaten Castiel with a knife, but he had to protect himself. And he’d done it knowing what it would do to him. 

_I’m such a sick bastard,_ Dean thought with a shake of his head. 

And Sam… He hadn’t wanted to kick him in the head and knock him out. He felt just terrible about what he’d done. The guilt was making him want to go back and apologize, but his instincts said otherwise. They had wanted to check on the state of his soul, which was something he’d witnessed firsthand; it was an extremely painful procedure. There was no point in going through that when his soul was fine. He knew it was because it had to be. 

Why did Castiel keep insisting that there was something wrong with him? Dean didn’t want to think it, but he thought part of it had to do with his attraction to Cas. He knew Cas was an angel, but was it possible that his friend was disgusted with people who weren’t straight? Was it possible that he was disgusted because he didn’t feel the same way? He claimed that he did share similar feelings, but given what had happened between the two of them in the past few days, Dean didn’t feel it. 

Yet, he wasn’t mad at Cas. He couldn’t be. Rather, Dean was angry with himself. Of course Cas didn’t feel the same way about him. Of course Cas had rejected him. He was so stupid for even making a move in the first place.

“Damn it!” Dean cursed, slamming the flat of his palm against the steering wheel. 

His life felt like it was becoming a mess. Hell, he’d thought the apocalypse was a mess, but now? The apocalypse didn’t even compare.

Dean didn’t pay attention to where he drove, he just wanted to keep going away. To his surprise he found himself in Lawrence, Kanas by nightfall. He found himself a motel and got himself a room. It wasn’t too shabby as far as motels went, and it was decorated in reds and browns, so it wasn’t like it hurt his eyes to look at the wallpaper or anything. 

Given the long day he’d had, Dean thought he’d feel tired by now, but he didn’t. He felt wide-awake. 

“Guess I gotta find myself a bar,” he muttered. 

His stomach growled in agreement. He hadn’t had an actual meal since that morning. Before, he was too upset to even notice the hunger that gnawed at him.

Lucky for Dean there was a restaurant with a bar right down the street. A tall man with dark hair took his order and got him a beer. The man smiled at him as he set the beer down and Dean smiled back.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said.

Dean took a swig of beer before answering, “I’m not from around here. Just got in from Lebanon.”

“Lebanon, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“So, you got family here?”

Dean looked down, a sad smile playing on his lips. “I used to, but that was a long time ago. I’m just here to get away from some people back home,” Dean explained.

The handsome bartender leaned against the bar, clearly becoming engaged in the conversation.

“You in a spot of trouble?”

“You could say that,” Dean responded before taking a long draft of his beer. If he was going to end up talking about what was going on he was probably going to need something stronger to drink.

“I’m all ears.”

“Better pour me a glass of whiskey then,” Dean told him.

“On it,” the man said with a tap against the bar. “So what’s your name?” he asked Dean as he got his whiskey ready.

At first Dean thought of giving him a fake name, but it wasn’t like he was working a job, so giving his real name wouldn’t do any harm.

“Dean. Dean Winchester,” he answered.

As the man placed a glass of whiskey in front of him he said, “Okay, Dean, your whiskey… on the house.”

Dean was abashed. “Sweet. Can I ask why?”

“You drove nearly four hours to get away from your problems,” he explained, “I think you could use a free drink.” The man leaned forward, now so close to Dean that he could smell his musky scent. “Besides, it’s not every day that I meet someone as attractive as you.” Dean pulled back in surprise, a blush creeping up his neck. The man pulled back, now looking a little upset. “I’m sorry,” he began, speaking quickly, “it’s just that my gaydar kinda went _bing_ when you walked in. It’s usually pretty accurate. I’m sorry if-“

Dean cut him off, “Don’t worry. I swing that way.” A smile spread across the bartender’s face as Dean took a sip of whiskey. He winced from the way it burned his throat as it went down. With a little more alcohol in him (he assumed that was the reason) he was able to admit, “Still working on being comfortable with that though.”

“Want some help?” the bartender asked flirtatiously before giving him a wink.

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t mind taking him up on that offer. He hung around till the bartender, Harrison was his name, got off from work, and in that time he vaguely talked about his situation. They went to his place after, and the night that followed wasn’t a new experience for Dean, but he was more comfortable with it than he’d predicted he’d be. Hell, he even had fun. After having dinner, beer, and sex, well, he felt positively satisfied.

Some time early in the morning Dean was woken up by the ringing of a cell phone. After seeing that it wasn’t his he nudged Harrison to wake him up.

“What?” he grumbled.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Dean informed him.

Harrison groped around for it in the dark, found it, and answered the call. Just as he started saying a greeting he trailed off, siting up in alarm.

“What?” he cried.

Now Dean was sitting up too, wondering what the hell was going on.

Only Harrison’s now-labored breathing could be heard as he listened to the person on the phone.

“I’ll be right over,” he said in a broken voice.

As soon as he hung up he leaped out of the bed and started hurriedly throwing clothes on.

“What’s going on? Dean asked him.

“It’s my friend Chris’ little sister,” he answered. “She’s missing.”

What was happening might not be a case, but something went off in Dean’s head. There was now work for him here, he just knew it.

“I’m going over to see him,” Harrison explained after tugging a shirt on. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

With that he started leaving the bedroom. Dean battled with the sheets until he was free, and then he went after him.

“Do you want me to tag along?” he asked. “Maybe I could help. Back in Lebanon I’m a detective.”

“Really?”

Dean nodded.

“Then come on.”

Chris lived alone on the outskirts of town in a little house. He met them outside and brought them around to the porch in the back where he had last seen his sister. She’d gone missing that night, so it was still too early for the police to get involved. Still, he was worried.

“What did you say your sister’s name was?” Dean asked after Chris had told his story. He hadn’t been paying attention when he’d said her name, just listening for anything that stood out to him.

“Hailee,” he answered. “Her name’s Hailee.” The night was cool, and Chris rubbed his hands together. “Look man, if that’s all, I’d really like to get back inside.”

“Sure, just a couple more questions. Was Hailee acting like herself?”

Chris’ face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course she was acting like herself.”

“You said you two were drinking.”

“Yeah, she’d just finished up a big research project at the university and wanted to celebrate, so like I said, I invited her over, we had a couple beers, and I must’ve fallen asleep. When I woke up she was gone.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “Thank you for your time. Uh, do you mind if I take a look around the property, see if there are any signs of what happened?”

Chris shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “Suit yourself.”

Harrison gave Dean a small smile of thanks as he started leading Chris back into the house. 

He heard the creak of the door being opened, and then the clack as it closed. He waited a few seconds to make sure they weren’t coming back out, and then started combing his way over the property. A minute or so passed without anything catching his eye, until he found a spot of blood just at the edge of the porch. There were a few more spots of blood, and they led a trail to the grass. From there he found parts where the lawn was flattened down. It was difficult to tell how many tracks there were, but it looked like it could’ve been two footprints; the larger ones of a man, and the smaller ones of a woman. It looked like Hailee had been forcibly dragged off. Dean followed the trail, which led him to the woods on the west side of the property. 

Dean didn’t know what had nabbed her, so there was no way he was going in there unprepared. He sighed at the prospect of having research to do. He just wanted to kill things. In fact, it felt more like something he needed to do.

As he started walking back towards the Impala he heard a powerful, clear cry ring out in the air, fluctuating from a low pitch to a high one, and then lower again. It sent a chill racing down Dean’s spine. Instinctively, he looked up into the sky. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken note of it before, but things seemed to click into place when the brilliant glow of the full moon met him.

_Werewolves._

He jogged to the Impala, a smile on his face. Any time research got taken off his to-do list was a good time for him. And now, he solely had the hunt to look forward to. 

Dean strapped a leather sheathe to his thigh, slipped a silver knife into it, grabbed his gun, loaded it up with silver bullets, and then he was off. He had decided to leave the flashlight; it could give away his position. Besides, moving in the dark was almost like a sixth sense to him. 

The trail was difficult to pick up once he got into the woods, and he often found himself nearly pressing his face against the ground in order to find it. In some places it was a little easier, where rocks were overturned and the thick dirt had been churned by Hailee’s struggles. The process was maddeningly slow, and he just wanted to rush in and kill the bastard, but he knew he couldn’t do that if he lost the trail. 

As he went deeper and deeper into the dark woods, the trail changed. There was only one set of footprints now, he was sure of it. So either Hailee was dead and it was carrying her body, or she was unconscious now. This made the trail more difficult to follow. 

A twig snapped, and Dean shot around, gun pointed in the direction of the noise. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for movement. Apprehension set in when his eyes perceived only the slight rustle of leaves in the cool night wind. That meant that whatever was there hadn’t moved on. It was watching him. He didn’t want to shoot it though; the noise would draw too much attention. 

The safest bet was to pretend that he didn’t know what was going on, so Dean forced himself to relax. The hair on the back of his neck stood as he turned away from the spot where he’d heard the twig snap, but he didn’t look back to it. Now he went back to studying the ground, the earthy smell of dirt and old leaves filling his nostrils as he crouched down to get a better look. 

_Why did I have to lose the trail here?_

Seriously, why couldn’t he have lost it before that thing started watching him? He’d feel less nervous about all this if that had been the case.

Dean searched for any indicators of where they’d gone while also having his ears pricked, listening for movement. He heard some shuffling in the leaves off to his right, and the sound got farther away. The thing had probably just been watching him to determine if he was a threat. Dean hoped they didn’t perceive him as one.

With a bit more searching Dean was able to pick up the trail again; there had been a bush with its branch bent out of place. Dean made his way through the swath of bushes, and then lost the trail again. But this time, it didn’t matter because roughly thirty feet in front of him was a clearing where the trees hadn’t grown so closely together. Silvery moonlight illuminated the clearing, allowing Dean to see what was going on. 

They were werewolves all right, down to the fangs, claws, and glowing eyes. He was too far away to make out how many of them there were. 

After making sure that the wind was blowing towards him Dean made his approach, keeping completely silent and using the trees for cover. 

He decided ten feet was close enough, so he crouched down behind a boulder, his eyes roaming over the scene before him. 

Ecstatic cries and growls met his ears, and he looked to where the noise was coming from. He instantly regretted that because two of the werewolves were unashamedly getting it on. After a shudder passed through him he turned his attention back to the others.

Altogether there were eight of them; four males and four females exactly. 

But there were others in the clearing. He hadn’t noticed them at first, but the slowly lightening sky allowed him to make them out. There were three others, two men and a woman, and they were each tied to separate trees. The woman had dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and she had similar features to Chris, just more feminine. 

_So that must be Hailee._

They seemed to be unconscious, either that or dead. 

But if they were dead, why hadn’t the werewolves viciously feasted on their hearts like the savage beasts they were? And if they weren’t dead, then why were they still alive? 

Dean looked more closely at each of the people who were tied up. In the cold morning light he thought he saw the glint of deep red on their skin; blood. But there wasn’t a lot of it, which suggested something that made Dean’s stomach drop to his feet. They’d been bitten.

So the eight werewolves would have three more joining them, making the size of the pack eleven. His blood had been pumping from following the trail, adrenaline coursing through him, so now he was aggravated. Barging in and trying to slaughter them would be suicide. 

_Son of a bitch._

He repressed a frustrated shout and started backing away, intending to leave the way he’d come. Just then, his phone rang. Dean stopped dead, his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

The pack of werewolves also froze, their heads swinging in his direction, even the couple that was um… busy, stopped to look. One of the males released a growl, stepping forward as their eyes met.

And that was when Dean took off running. He turned back and saw two of the werewolves in pursuit. The trees rushed by him as he ran, and his breath came in heavy pants. 

The rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs alerted Dean that they were gaining on them. He still had a ways to go before he was out of the woods. He wasn’t going to make it. 

Just as he was mentally preparing himself for a fight, the sounds grew farther away. He turned back as he ran, and saw the two figures, now looking extremely human, standing together and watching him go. 

Usually Dean hated mornings, but that sunrise might have just saved his life. 

He kept on running until he was out of the forest, and then he jogged to the Impala. Sweat was running down his face and back from the wild run, and his breathing was rapid. As he let himself relax he dug his phone out of his pocket. He saw that someone had left him a message.

He lifted his phone to his ear to listen to it.

“Hey, Dean, it’s Harrison. Just checking up on you. I didn’t see you after I finally got Chris to sleep, and your car was still there. Just wondering what’s going on. Give me a call.”

Dean threw his phone down on the seat in frustration. After what had just happened there was no way he was going to call that guy back. Besides, this wasn’t how one night stands worked, and that’s all he’d wanted it to be. He’d wanted sex, and he’d gotten it. Time to move on. 

The car rumbled and purred as he started the ignition. The drive was a little longer than he’d wanted it to be, especially after the night he had, but he made it back to the motel.

Dean hopped in the shower, needing to clean the dirt and sweat off of him. His mind was working, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. He hung his head, the hot water of the shower running over him, when he came to a solution. He was going to have to call Sam and Castiel for help.

 

Dean paced around nervously as he waited for Sam to pick up. 

When he did Sam asked, anxiety flooding his voice, “Dean?”

Guilt overcame Dean from his brother’s tone. He’d kicked him in the head, yet he had still been so worried about him.

“Yeah, Sammy, it’s me.”

“Oh thank god. Cas and I have been so worried. Where are you?”

“Lawrence.”

He heard his brother’s surprise as he questioned, “Lawrence? What are you doing there?”

“I found a case.”

“Dean, are you just saying that so you won’t have to deal with what’s going on?”

“There’s _nothing_ going on,” Dean growled out. “But this case, there are werewolves, lots of them, and I can’t do it alone.”

The breathy sound of a sigh mixed with static met his ears. “Okay. Give Cas and I till the afternoon. We’ll be there. Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

With that, Sam hung up. 

So he had till the afternoon to prepare for seeing them again. At least they’d make it before nightfall. The werewolves had gotten his scent, and he really didn’t feel like being hunted down like prey. It was supposed to be the other way around. He hated this. If he hadn’t run off in the first place he wouldn’t be in this mess, but then again, he’d had to do it. He had to protect himself. And that’s what he was doing now. When compared to Sam and Cas, the werewolves were a bigger threat because they actually wanted him dead. But after this was all over were they going to insist that he go back?

 

“Come on, Dean. It’s not a bad compromise,” Sam stated. “We help you take out the werewolves, you come back to the bunker.”

Dean was pacing the motel room, eyeing both Sam and Cas with anger. They other two men looked apprehensive about the situation.

He rounded on them. “How about we take out the werewolves, and then you let me go on my merry way?”

“I don’t see what the problem is, Dean,” Cas said gruffly, stepping forward. 

Unlike the day before his gut wasn’t telling him to get away from Castiel, so he held his ground. 

“Oh, you don’t, huh?”

“The procedure, it won’t kill you.”

“Don’t seriously tell me you’re scared of a little pain,” Sam added. 

Dean tilted his head to address him, “Last I checked it was more than _a little pain_.”

Sam shrugged. “We’ve both been through worse. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Dean turned from both of them, going to the far wall and resting himself against it, his head lowered. Fear was beginning to course through him. It wasn’t the procedure itself that frightened him, even though he liked to think that. What really frightened him was that Cas would find something wrong. Deep down he knew that. There were only so many warning signs he could notice before denial stopped working. What had really driven that home for him was when, after the crazy night he’d had, he didn’t even feel like he needed more sleep. Dean was still as wide-awake as ever. 

“I’ll go with you,” Dean finally agreed in a quiet voice. “We kill those sons of bitches, and then I’ll go back with you.”

He felt Cas put a hand on his shoulder, gripping him in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but all it did was make Dean feel nervous. 

“Thank you,” the angel breathed. 

 

While they waited for nightfall Sam and Dean cleaned their guns, sharpened their knives, and took stock of their silver bullets. They were cutting it kind of close seeing as the pack was so large, but with Castiel’s help they shouldn’t really run into a problem. 

“Don’t think we’ve ever taken on a pack this size,” Sam commented as he loaded bullets into his favorite handgun.

“Nope,” Dean responded, “But we’ve taken on a few vampire nests to rival these evil mutts. I think we’ll be fine.”

“I just feel bad about that Hailee girl. What do we even tell her brother?”

“After tonight, we tell him she’s dead.”

The room went silent after those words left Dean’s mouth, and Cas, who was sitting at the table on the other side of the room tilted his head slightly as he observed Dean; Sam just looked really uncomfortable.

To break the silence, Dean did a fancy flip with one of his knives, sheathed it, and proclaimed, “Let’s go hunt us some werewolves.”

 

At sunset Dean drove the three of them to a dirt road that had been long forgotten. It led into the woods, but the path was so overgrown they’d have to go the rest of the way on foot. Dean had checked a few maps, and the road should lead directly to the clearing. Interestingly enough, the clearing had once been the property of a recluse, but after they’d died the property had been demolished. That was a long time ago, and nature had taken over. Dean idly wondered how the werewolves had found out about the spot, but he supposed it didn’t matter, as long as he’d get to kill them. 

The three of them trekked through the woods, hardly making a sound. Night had fully taken over by the time the clearing was in their sight. This time there were eleven werewolves in the clearing, and there was a woman tied to a tree on the north side, barely conscious. They seemed to be getting ready for something, but for what? Why would they even build up a pack this large?

Dean, Sam, and Cas were all crouched low in some bushes, a little more than ten feet away from the closest werewolf. Usually before a hunt Dean’s fear felt like a stone in his stomach, but this time, there was just raw excitement.

“This is your hunt, Dean,” Sam breathed, “so what’s the plan?”

Dean took stock of the area and of the positions of each of the werewolves, breathing deeply as he focused. Neither of them could afford to mess up when they had this many adversaries. Two werewolves broke off from the others and Dean could just make out their dark figures in the trees. That was when things began to fall into place in his head.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, “you circle around to the north side.” He took out an extra gun he’d brought with him and handed it to the angel. “Take this. I’ve got a silencer on it; you see those two over there?” When Cas saw the werewolves Dean was gesturing to he nodded his head. “Shoot them before they have a chance to get back to the clearing. Then wait for my signal. Trust me, you won’t miss it.” Castiel started to stand, but Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful.”

Dean’s heart fluttered and he looked at Castiel with wide eyes when the angel pressed a kiss to his cheek. Their eyes met, and Cas assured him, “I will be.”

Before Dean could really process what had just happened Cas was gone. He pressed a hand to his cheek in awe as the sensation of the angel’s lips against his skin slowly faded away. Sam cleared his throat, and Dean was brought back to the reality of the difficult fight that awaited them.

“Uh… Sam, you take the east side. Wait for my signal before you engage.”

“And I’m guessing the signal is you charging in there like a maniac?”

“Pretty much.”

And yet again, Dean started feeling emotional about what was to come. Before Sam could leave to get into position Dean murmured, “Sam, look, if… if things go badly I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Dude, we’ll be fine.”

“Can’t you just take a freakin’ apology?”

“Apologize later,” his brother told him before giving him a pat on the shoulder and moving off through the trees.

Dean watched him go, despair trying to beat down the excitement within him. He wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from, but he didn’t have high hopes for this hunt. 

_If I go down, at least I’ll go down fighting._

He waited silently, his eyes trained on the spot where he was expecting Cas to be. A minute later and the two silhouettes in the trees dropped. He saw a flash of blue eyes before Cas ducked out of sight. Dean charged into the clearing. 

From there everything was a blur of screams, and blood, and adrenaline. The thick, sickly scent of gore filled his nostrils as the three of them lay waste to the werewolf pack. Dean’s heart beat wildly in his chest, his instincts working on overdrive. Guttural howls and cries filled the night air, growing quieter as the fight progressed. 

All too soon for Dean, there were no more enemies left; he, Sam, and Cas stood, battered and gasping for breath, amidst dead bodies, the full moon shining down on them. 

“Well that was fun,” Dean proclaimed honestly, earning him looks from both his brother and his friend.

“You have a strange definition of fun,” Cas said bluntly as he brushed past him.

When Dean felt Cas’ body brush against his, he got all warm and tingly, probably more than he would have if not for the fight. With his instincts still being in top priority he did what felt right, grabbing the angel and turning him to face him. Before Cas could say or do anything Dean pulled him close, crushing their lips together. He tried, he really did, but Cas wasn’t responsive to his touch. In fact, his muscles seemed to tense. Dean pulled back, crestfallen. Sam seemed to notice Dean’s sudden shift in mood and he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Rather than be ashamed for kissing Castiel in front of his brother, he felt comforted that he seemed to understand how he felt.

Sam broke the tense silence between them by saying, “Let’s get back to the bunker.”

Blinking tears out of his eyes, Dean nodded and then started making his way back down the trail, not looking at either of them.


	11. Soul Searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly so excited about this chapter. It's been in my head since chapter two, and now I finally got to write it!

“Think those are tight enough?” Dean asked Sam sarcastically as his brother tightened the ropes around his right wrist, accidently making it dig into his skin. All that earned him was a glare, and Dean looked straight ahead, to Castiel. The angel was leaning against the single table in the dungeon, his arms crossed as he looked intently at Dean. “Is this really necessary?”

“The procedure will be quite painful,” Castiel answered honestly. “This is the best way to keep you still.”

Dean groaned and leaned his head back. None of this was going to be fun, which was an understatement. He could still feel Cas’ eyes on him, something that now made him wildly uncomfortable. He still didn’t understand. Why hadn’t Cas kissed back if he claimed to have affection for him? Dean wanted to talk to him about it, but that wasn’t really something he could bring up in front of Sam. Just thinking about it made his cheeks burn red. He noticed Sam glancing at him, but his brother didn’t say anything. 

When he was done with the ropes he went over to Cas.

“They’re tight enough,” he assured.

Dean swallowed nervously before lifting his head up again. 

“Thank you, Sam,” the angel said to his brother.

He approached him, and started taking his belt off.

Naturally, being in the situation that he was, Dean turned to innuendo, “As much as I enjoy getting tied up, Cas, I’d rather it be under different circumstances.”

Rather than ignore him as Dean had thought he would, or even look confused, Cas lifted an eyebrow, eyeing him with an emotion that Dean could only think of as inappropriate given the current situation. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. 

Now Dean felt warm for an entirely different reason, his anxiety seeming to leave him. Before he could really process what had just happened, Cas folded his belt and placed it in Dean’s mouth for him to bite down on. 

As he took of his trench coat and started rolling up one of his sleeves he said to him, “If there’s some place in your mind that you find comforting, I suggest you go there.”

Dean nodded his head, and tried his best to do as Castiel had said. That wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought it would be, and he had soon immersed himself in a memory, his eyes closed blissfully. It had happened so long ago he wasn’t even sure if it was a memory, or something he’d dreamed up. It was sad as much as it was joyful. 

He was with his mom, maybe under a year before the fire. The only way he could tell was because she was still pregnant with Sam. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and his dad was out somewhere, so it was just Dean and his mom. They were lying on the couch together, Dean rubbing at his mom’s round belly, and he felt surrounded in comfort and warmth.

_“Mommy,” Dean asked, “do you think Sammy can hear us?”_

_“I’m sure he can, sweetie.”_

_Dean leaned in close, and whispered, “I can’t wait to meet you, Sammy. I’m always gonna love you.”_

Just as he kissed his mom’s belly in the memory, it shattered, breaking like glass. He tried to hold it together, but the burning and aching pain that was coursing through him was too much. It violently dragged him back to reality, where his muffled screams met his ears. The warm taste of leather flooded his mouth as he bit down on Cas’ belt. 

The agony was deep inside him, at the center of his very being, and with each second it grew worse and worse. He could feel Cas’ hand burrowing into him, towards his soul. Sheer terror encompassed him, making him fight madly against his restraints, scream after scream tearing from his throat. Tears were streaming down his face, his body shuddering from how _wrong_ this felt. 

And then, just when it seemed he was going to pass out from the pain, Cas’ hand retreated and the sensations left him. Dean opened his mouth, the belt falling from it, and he took in large gasps of air. 

When he opened his eyes he had to blink away tears in order to see. Castiel was already rolling down his sleeve, conversing quietly with Sam.

Whatever Cas had told him must not have been good because his brother swallowed roughly before dashing out of the dimly lit dungeon, probably heading straight for the library. 

“What…” Dean panted. “What did you find?”

Cas answered while undoing his restraints, “It’s not good. Over a quarter of your soul is missing.”

Dean leaned his head back in despair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought we got rid of the Baku.”

“Apparently not.”

A harsh laugh tore from Dean’s throat. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Even when his restraints dropped to the floor Dean stayed sitting in the chair, trying to come to grips with what Cas had discovered. 

“What do we do Cas?”

“I wish I knew,” the angel said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

Dean tilted his head to look at him, and hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. This whole situation was hopeless. There was no point for Sam to be in the library, searching for a way to help him. He couldn’t be helped. He was going to lose his soul, and there was nothing they could do. 

_At least Castiel rejecting me won’t hurt so much after that,_ Dean thought bitterly. 

It was that thought that made his tears flow anew. He was too distraught to feel shame from the sobs that racked his body. Soon, his vision was all blurry and his face was wet with tears.

He fell out of the chair and to his knees, burying his face in his hands. It was all too much. All of it; the hopelessness of the situation they were in, Castiel saying he cared about Dean and then utterly rejecting him. Why? _Why couldn’t he get a damn break?_

Strong hands gripped his wrists, and Dean lifted his head up, Cas’ face blurry in his vision. 

“G-go away!” he cried. “J-just l-leave me… alone!”

“I can’t,” Castiel said. “Not when you’re hurting this much.

Dean pulled away, falling to the floor, and pushing the chair back in the process, making it scrape across the floor.

“What do you care?!”

“I _do_ care, Dean.”

“Bull shit!”

He scrabbled against the cold floor as Cas approached him. His sobs grew stronger when the angel held his face in his hands. 

“Is this because of me not kissing back?”

A few seconds passed where Dean had to fight down his shame before nodding, lowering his eyes to the ground. 

“I didn’t kiss back for the reason you’re thinking.”

“ _Then why?_ ” he growled out. 

“It’s because I do care.”

“I-I do-don’t under-understand.”

Dean’s tears seemed to flow more quickly when Cas caressed his face. He was so confused, and the affection of the gesture just _hurt_.

“You’re in a terribly messy emotional place, Dean, because of what the Baku is doing to you. The other night when you wanted me, and last night when you kissed me, I felt that if I reciprocated I’d be taking advantage of you. You weren’t feeling like yourself.”

Dean’s cheeks turned red when a whimper from trying to hold back his sobs left him. 

“I want you, Cas,” he admitted. “ _I need you._ ”

Rather than saying something as Dean had thought he would, Cas’ lips met his. He tried pulling back in surprise, but Cas held him tightly. As he relaxed into the kiss he closed his eyes, and the tears stopped. His breathing slowed as he just let himself fall into the sensation of Castiel’s lips moving strongly against his. 

Time seemed to stop, and it was just the two of them. They inched closer to each other until their bodies were pressed together, and Dean breathed in his pleasant scent. 

Just as Dean’s arms wrapped around him, Cas pulled away, causing a quiet whine to escape Dean. 

The angel’s eyes were heavy with emotion as he said, “Everything will be all right, Dean. We’ll figure out how to save you.”

Dean shook his head, leaning closer so his nose brushed against the angel’s. “I don’t want to think about that right now,” he murmured, his eyes flashing to Cas’ lips. 

Cas gently brushed his thumbs against Dean’s cheeks, rubbing his remaining tears away. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. As a response he pressed his lips to Dean’s again, and Dean responded instantly, letting out a pleased moan as their lips moved together. 

This was something he’d dreamed about for ages, and now it was finally happening. Despite the circumstances that had made it happen, Dean was thankful for this moment. It felt like something that had been building between them since they’d first met in that barn all those years ago. Pent-up emotions flooded over in a torrent, and Dean opened his mouth for Cas, who gratefully placed his tongue in with a groan. The kiss was rough and needy, and it did more than take Dean’s mind off of the situation they were stuck in. For now, he didn’t care that he was losing his soul. He didn’t care about the Baku, or Amara, or the end of the universe. For now, all he could think about was Castiel.


	12. Suicidal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though the title's "Suicidal" I feel like people might get pissed if I didn't have a warning... So, news flash, someone's suicidal in this chapter.

“That was quite enjoyable,” Castiel said as he wrapped an arm around Dean and pulled him against his side. 

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed half-heartedly.

“You don’t sound like it was. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

In an instant Cas was sitting up, his hands probing carefully over Dean to check for injuries. Dean brushed his hands away, also sitting up. The two of them were on his bed, not a stitch of clothing on them. Dean was disappointed. Not with the experience, but with himself. Usually he’d feel great after something like that, especially since it’d been with Castiel. Sure, he was satisfied, but that was it. He wasn’t… _happy_. And he didn’t know why. It was bothering him.

“I’m fine,” he lied, not able to meet Cas’ eyes. 

Cas cupped his face in his hands and made him look at him.

“You’re not fine,” the angel stated. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Dean insisted. 

He could see Cas wasn’t convinced, so to distract him he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Warmth flooded Dean when he heard Cas inhale his scent, and then he was roughly kissing back. But that only lasted for a few seconds because Cas pulled away.

“Mm! Dean, as nice as kissing you is, I know you’re trying to use it as a distraction.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, pulling out of Cas’ grip. 

He started putting his clothes back on and Cas remained on the bed, thoughtful. 

“Maybe it’s the Baku,” he heard Cas murmur just as he had been about to put on his shirt.

Dean whipped around, pointing a finger at him. “No, it’s not. That thing can take my soul, but I won’t let it take what was supposed to have been a good experience from me.”

Cas’ face fell. “It wasn’t good? Did I… did I not please you?”

There was a soft rustle as Dean’s shirt fell from his hands, and he sat on the bed, taking one of Cas’ hands. Their eyes met, and poor Cas looked liked he’d just found out he’d failed a test or something. His blue eyes were all watery with emotion.

“No, Cas,” he said emphatically. “That’s not it.”

“Then why-“

Dean cut him off. “You did please me. A lot, in fact.”

“I don’t understand. Then why are you not happy?”

Dean lowered his gaze, and rubbed his thumb idly across Cas’ knuckles. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m _satisfied_ , but… that’s it. I thought I’d feel awesome after we finally hooked up, but I don’t. I feel pretty far from awesome.”

Cas’ finger went under his chin, lifting his head up to meet his eyes. “This isn’t your fault, Dean. It’s the Baku. It has to be.”

“But _why_ does it have to ruin this for me?” Dean asked, his voice cracking with emotion. “ _Why?_ ”

He thought he’d cried all his tears earlier, but more were soon streaking down his face, melancholy engulfing him. He leaned towards Cas, who instantly had his arms wrapped around him as he sobbed.

“It’s the nature of a Rogue Baku, Dean,” Cas answered forlornly. 

There was a gentle pressure against him for a few seconds as Cas pressed a kiss to his head. 

“If it’s any consolation, Sam is in the library as we speak, trying to find a way to help you.”

“He’s al-already… searched! He w-w-won’t find anything.”

“We must have hope.”

Dean tore free of his grasp and shouted, “Screw hope! You know what, screw all of this!”

In an instant he was up from the bed, pacing, scrubbing his hands through his hair. 

“This situation is hopeless, and you know it!”

“Dean, just calm down.”

Dean laughed sardonically. “Sure, great, ‘cause that just makes me feel all better.”

“Please, let’s just talk about this.”

He whirled on him, but Cas didn’t look startled. Rather, he looked worried. 

“I am through with talking, Cas. It’s not gonna do us any good. I’m still gonna lose my soul. Hell, the universe is still gonna end. And there’s no way to fight it. To fight any of it. We’re losing, Cas, and we’re just gonna keep losing until there’s nothing left.”

Just as he was about to turn around again Cas was on his feet and he grabbed Dean’s shoulder, turning him to face him. 

“No, Dean,” he said emphatically. “We are _not_ going to lose.”

“Quit lying to yourself, man. It’s pathetic.” Cas lowered his eyes, looking crestfallen, but he remained quiet. Dean stepped away from him, out of his grasp. “This is all so stupid and pointless,” he rambled on. “Why should I even try? Why should any of us even try? I might as well just kick the bucket now and be done with it.”

“K-kick the bucket?” Cas questioned.

As a response Dean took his favorite handgun - the one with the white filigree - off its place on the wall. The safety was still on when he placed the barrel under his chin, tears in his eyes.

Face ashen with terror, Cas shook his head. “No, Dean, no. Y-you can’t.”

Barely seeming to breathe, Dean clicked off the safety, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Dean, please, just give me the gun,” Cas ordered, reaching out for it. Dean stepped out of his reach, more tears falling, and his throat was aching from his sorrow. “You can’t do this. What about your brother?”

Dean’s bottom lip trembled as he got out, “ _Screw him._ H-he did this to m-m-me. And now he’ll pay for it.”

He wasn’t bluffing. He was ready to pull the trigger, to just end everything. He didn’t see a point in dragging out his life any longer. He was going to die. They were all going to. The universe was going to die. And before that even happened he’d lose his soul, lose what made him _him_.

“Yes, he did, Dean. But he is working right now to fix it. He’s doing that for _you_.”

“So what?! It’s not like it’ll fix anything!”

“What about us, Dean?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t feel a damn thing without a soul.”

“Please, Dean. You’ll never get to show me _The Lord of the Rings_. You wanted to do that, remember? I was thinking it could be our first date. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Cas tried reaching for the gun again, and Dean lowered his finger over the trigger, making the angel take a step back. It was rare for Castiel to cry since it was such a human thing to do, but he did so now, tears freely falling.

“Dean, please. _I need you._ ”

Both men stared at each other and cried, the tension in the room so thick that it could be sliced with a butter knife, and it pressed in on them. The beating of Dean’s heart was nearly painful. His finger twitched as he fought with himself. He thought he’d been ready, but now…

“ _I need you, Dean Winchester._ ”

Dean dropped the gun and fell to his knees, his face buried in his hands as he sobbed. Cas’ arms were around him in an instant, pulling him close. Fear engulfed Dean. He’d almost done it. He’d almost taken his own life.

“I’m s-s-sorry, Cas!” he cried. “I’m sorry!”

“Sh… You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault. It’s not even necessarily Sam’s fault. It’s that damn Baku. We’re going to get rid of it, Dean. We have to.”

“It’s not going to work,” he bemoaned. “I… I just want t-to die!”

“I won’t let you. Sam and I, we’re going to save you. We’re going to save you…”


	13. Rogue

Sam hadn’t been worried when Castiel and Dean hadn’t joined him in the library right away; there were some things those two needed to get sorted out. But then, some time later, Dean sat down across from him and grabbed one of the books Sam had put on the table without saying a word, his eyes bloodshot and puffy as if he’d been crying. Sam was going to ask him what had happened, but that was when Cas entered and gestured for Sam to follow him.

Cas led him into the kitchen, presumably to talk. Once there Sam leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

“What’s going on?” he asked the rather worn looking angel. “Did you two manage to work things out?”

“Oh yes, that worked out great.”

Sam fought down a smile because though he was happy for the two of them he knew that there was something else going on.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Your brother, he…” Cas looked away as he trailed off.

“He… what?” Sam prompted.

Cas sat down at the kitchen table and looked up at Sam. His blue eyes, which usually held wisdom beyond comprehension, were now vulnerable, childlike, and frightened. Sam’s stomach dropped to his feet.

“He nearly committed suicide.”

Sam’s knees wanted to give out, so he took a seat across from Cas. He frowned as he tried to make sense of the words. Sure, he understood them, just not in relation to Dean.

Then something occurred to him. “If he’s feeling like that then why are we leaving him alone? What if-“

Cas cut him off before Sam’s anxiety about the situation just brought up more and more questions, “He’s safe for now. The moment passed.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas as he asked, “Was it the Baku?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

An ache rose in Sam’s chest, and it made its way to his throat. He took in a shaky breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh god, he’d almost lost his brother. And it was his fault.

He swallowed past the emotional lump in his throat, bit back all the self-deprecating comments, and stated, “I have to end this.”

Without another word he left the room. He’d go through every book in the Men of Letters library if he had to. Sam was determined to find a way to save his brother. 

Dean looked up from his book when he walked back into the library.

“What did Cas want?” he asked, trying to seem casual. Sam could tell from the way his voice pitched a little more than usual.

“Uh, he wanted to know how to work the coffee machine,” Sam lied.

Dean probably knew Sam was lying because without even looking at him he said, “He’s an angel. He doesn’t drink coffee.”

Sam flipped open a book as he clarified, “The coffee’s for us.”

As Sam started reading – he was checking out what one of the Men of Letters had written about there possibly being a spell – Cas walked into the room.

“Where’s the coffee?” Sam asked, keeping up with the lie.

“Oh, um… right. Coffee.”

With that he was gone again. Sam eyed Dean, who was mouthing the words as he read, and then he prepared himself for all the mind-numbing research that lay ahead of him.

 

Sam was a fast reader. He’d had to be while at Stanford, but he was getting frustrated. He wanted an answer _now_ , but there were so many books to go through that realistically it’d take him a year to finish up. And that was if he cut out sleeping all together. 

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“2:43,” Dean answered.

As if being reminded of how late - or at this point how early - it was made Sam’s body remember it was tired he yawned. 

“This is pointless,” Dean grumbled, pushing his book away from him. “I mean, have you two found anything?” he asked, looking from Sam to Cas.

Cas shook his head, but refused to look up from the book in front of him. “Not yet.”

“Zilch,” Sam informed him. 

“Figures.”

“The Men of Letters haven’t personally dealt with a Rogue Baku before,” Sam said. “That’s all. There’s always a way to fight the evil out there, so let’s be the ones who figure out how to deal with Bakus.”

“But the hits’ll keep coming, man,” Dean said, his green eyes dull and weary. “They always do.”

Sam sat up in his chair, knowing he had to appear strong for his older brother. “That hasn’t stopped you before. You’re Dean Winchester. You can fight anything.”

“Yeah, until you served me up to this son of a bitch.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, the guilt weighing on his shoulders growing heavier. “I said I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t save me, Sammy. Maybe you just gotta admit there’s no way out of this one. So either I’m gonna kill myself, or I survive long enough to lose my soul. Either way, you gotta let me go.”  
“No. I’m not giving up on you.”

“Neither am I,” Cas said. “I can’t.”

Sam and Castiel shared a look. In that moment Sam came to the realization that the two of them loved Dean equally. Cas and Dean didn’t just have a different type of relationship or special bond. What they had was deep, and scary, just as Sam’s relationship with Dean was. And Sam loved Cas for that. He was glad that he wasn’t the only one who was looking out for his brother.

“Fine. You two can read until I die then. Me, I’m gonna get a drink.”

Dean left the room and Cas looked to Sam questioningly. He nodded his head, letting Cas know that he’d be fine on his own. After a small smile of gratitude the angel dashed out of the library after Dean.

 

Footsteps behind him alerted Dean to the fact that one of them had gone after him. They weren’t as heavy as Sam’s. Good. He didn’t want to talk to Sam right now. Still, he didn’t look back to Cas or let him catch up. He was set on having a few drinks. 

The case of beers clinked as he removed it from the fridge, and he sat down on the floor with it. He popped the cap off and took a long drink just as Cas entered the room.

“Dean, you shouldn’t do this to yourself.”

He shrugged and then motioned for Cas to sit down beside him. Silence encompassed them, and for that, Dean was grateful. He didn’t want to argue with anyone, and Cas probably didn’t want to argue with him either. The angel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. 

They were quiet as Dean finished his first bottle of beer, and then a second. As he went for a third one he said, “I’m sorry it took a Rogue Baku snacking on my soul to get me to make a move on you.” He took a sip of the beer and then looked at Cas. “I should’ve done it ages ago.”

Cas gently took the beer from his hand and placed it on the floor behind him. Dean’s head turned to stare at the bottle, contemplating picking it back up again, but Cas cupped his face in one hand, having him look at him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he told him.

“Of course I do. Just think about all the time I’ve wasted. We could’ve been together for years, Cas. And now… now we don’t have that much time left.”

His thumb was comfortingly brushing against his cheekbone as he said, “I know you don’t believe it, but you have more time than you think. Like I said earlier, Sam and I are going to save you.”

Dean’s gaze drifted away from the angel’s handsome face. He just couldn’t believe him. There was no way out of this one. 

He was mildly surprised when Cas tried a different approach. “You don’t need to think about the future right now, Dean. Just think about this moment. Think about the two of us.”

“All I can think about is how I was in denial about my feelings for you for years,” he grumbled. 

Now Cas was gripping his shoulders, and he shook him a little bit.

“No. Don’t think about the past either. Think about here and now. _I_ am with you, Dean. For this moment, you have me. Just think about that.”

Castiel’s words lifted some of the burden Dean felt. He was right. The future could wait. He looked up into the angel’s eyes, and then leaned forward, pressing their lips together. Part of this was Dean seeking satisfaction. In the past few hours he had slowly felt his feelings for Castiel waning. He didn’t want to lose that, so he held onto him desperately, his lips abrasively meeting his over and over again.

Cas was smart, he probably knew that’s what part of this was, but thankfully, he reciprocated. He even went so far as to pull Dean into his lap. Heat ran through him from the angel manhandling him like that, and it urged him to part his lips for him. So he did. Cas’ tongue slipped into his mouth, feverishly exploring. Dean held onto the back of his head, digging his nails into his scalp as he released a groan. 

The angel’s large hands had made their way to his hips, and his grip was tight and bruising. Dean loved it. Dean was already a little intoxicated, but Cas’ strong scent seemed to make him even more so. He breathed him in wantonly, a guttural moan leaving him as he permeated his senses. 

Castiel pulled away, and Dean growled at him. He tried capturing Cas’ lips with his own again, but the angel held him at bay.

“We should probably go help your brother,” he told him, his voice even more low and gravelly than usual.

“Please, Cas,” Dean breathed. “I need you.”

During their make out session he had started getting hard, and he ground his hips against Cas to show him what he meant. Cas grunted, and then he gave in, allowing their lips to crash together again.

 

Sam wasn’t upset that the two of them were taking a while to get back. Maybe they were talking. He blushed a little as it came to him that they might also be doing something else. Still, he didn’t care. It would be much better than him getting drunk. 

At one point during their absence he had gone back to his room to retrieve a notebook and a pen. An idea seemed to be coming to him, he just didn’t have all of it yet. So now he was taking notes as he read, and he was also working out some of his own thoughts. 

Dean walked back in, his cheeks flushed, just as Sam’s idea began to take shape. 

“Dean, I think I’ve got something!” he said excitedly, pushing his notebook to the far side of the table so his brother could have a look. 

Sam frowned when he pushed the notebook aside and sat on the table.

“That’s great, Sammy,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically even.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he began, “because you know what, I’m really not. And guess who’s fault that is? Yours.”

Sam opened up his mouth to apologize yet again, but Dean’s hand grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the table. He felt the impact, and then nothing, his world going black.


	14. Baku-San

A throbbing pain emanated from Sam’s forehead, spreading throughout his skull till he felt nauseous. He groaned. 

His brother’s voice sounded too loud in his ears when he said, “Seems like someone’s waking up.”

Sam blinked open his eyes, which were watery from the ache in his head, and found that he was tied to a chair in the library. He struggled against his restraints, his moves sluggish, as he lifted up his head. Dean had pushed the tables back so that there was a large open space in the middle of the room, and he was pacing, a silver knife held in one hand.

“What the hell?” Sam asked quietly, mostly to himself. 

Painfully, his neck straining, he tilted his head and saw Castiel off to his left. The angel was sitting on the floor, Enochian handcuffs around his wrists, which connected to a chain that was secured to a hook in the floor. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Just getting rid of some loose ends,” he answered as he turned to face him. 

“Loose ends? Dean, what do you mean?”

“Sam, I’m not sure that’s your brother anymore,” Castiel said. 

Sam tried turning his head to him, but it made pain explode behind his eyes. He winced. “What do you mean he’s not my brother?”

“Enough!” Dean shouted, springing over to Sam and placing the cold metal of the blade against his cheek. “Stop talking,” he growled.

Sam did his best to study his eyes. Castiel was right. Those eyes, they weren’t Dean’s. They were too manic, too chaotic. 

“Who are you?” Sam asked.

Burning sensation flashed across his cheek and then blood was dripping down his face.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” the thing responded, backing away from him. He pointed the bloodied knife at Cas, now approaching him. “Do you know?” he cried. “Do you?”

It hurt to turn his head, but Sam could see what happened next in his peripheral vision. As the thing stepped closer to him the angel sprang to his feet and lunged. Instantly, with more agility than Sam was used to seeing from his brother, the thing leapt back, and reversed the direction of the blade, pressing the tip against Dean’s chest.

“Ah-ah-ah…” it chided. “Careful.”

Sam’s heart leapt into his throat at seeing the sharp point resting over his brother’s heart.

“You’re not a demon,” he said, trying to draw its attention. “So what are you? A ghost?”

It used his brother’s voice to laugh, a deep arrhythmic sound that sent a chill up Sam’s spine. 

“If only,” it mused. “Maybe then I wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Usually Sam’s mind worked quicker than this, but his thoughts felt so sluggish. He couldn’t exactly piece together what was happening.

“What?”

The thing lunged at him, smacking his head to the side, which send a screaming bolt of pain down his neck and into his back. He blacked out for a few seconds, and when he came to his eyes were watering fiercely.

“You should know!” it shouted at him, its face going red. “You did this to me!”

That was when it clicked into place.

“The Baku.”

“In the flesh!” it said brutally. “Well, not my flesh, but I thought it was about damn time that I dealt with you, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? I mean, I have your brother’s voice.”

“Yeah, but you’re not him. Get out of him!”

It laughed again, and Sam felt like he was going to be sick, his head spinning. 

“Oh, I wish I could. But guess what, you chained me to this freak show! I can’t leave.”

Cas cut in, drawing its attention away from Sam. “I don’t understand. You ate his nightmares. You did what you were meant for.”

“What I was meant for?” it growled out, going over to Cas. “What I was meant for?! Do you think I’m like some slave meant to do your bidding?”

Even though he physically felt awful, and fear was like a cold stone in his stomach, there was no holding back the sharp comment that came to mind. “Kinda.”

The Baku whirled on Sam, its eyes dancing with anger. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

“Yeah, well we don’t always get what we want, do we? I want you to leave my brother, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Haven’t you been listening to a word I said? I _can’t_ leave. 

It brandished its knife again, and Sam closed his eyes, bracing himself. But none of the metal ever touched him because Cas had drawn its attention again. “Yes, you can,” he spoke up. “You can. You just don’t want to.”

Sam hesitantly opened his eyes, and was met with the Baku’s back to him as it approached Cas. Despite the pain in his neck Sam turned his head to watch. The Baku crouched down, placing the end of the knife under Cas’ chin. 

“And what would you know about it, angel?”

Cas stared defiance back at it. “I know that Dean’s nightmares hurt you, and I know you won’t leave because you want revenge.”

The Baku shifted its stance, and Sam decided this would be as good a chance as he would get, so he started working on trying to undo his restraints. 

“Calling it that makes it sound so petty,” the Baku mused, and then a huff of a laugh left it. It swiped its thumb under its eye, seeming to wipe a tear away. “You don’t understand, do you? Either of you.” It turned back to Sam, and he instantly stilled what he was doing.

“We do understand,” Cas affirmed, drawing its attention back to him.

In a flash of anger the Baku swept out at Cas with a fist, the power of it knocking him to the floor. Before he could sit up the Baku grabbed his hair and lifted his head up.

“Dean really likes you, you know,” he told the angel. “Maybe even loves you. Or he did before I started eating his soul.”

Sam saw the despair on Castiel’s face, but all he could feel was disgust for the being that was feeding off of his brother’s very essence. The disgust seemed to break through the haze in his brain, adding focus and making his movements more agile. He’d managed to grasp at the ropes binding him, and was slowly sliding it down his hands. He knew the knot would be difficult to get at, but maybe if he loosened it enough…

The Baku continued to torment Castiel as Sam worked to get free, “And earlier, when you two were getting it on, I was there. And I devoured the pleasure Dean was supposed to get out of it, and it tasted _good_. So very good. Thank you, Castiel. That was special.”

Tears were in the angel’s eyes and he actually raised his voice, which was a rarity, “That wasn’t meant for you!”

“I know, but I like to see it as recompense for all the suffering I’ve gone through recently.”

Sam wished to say something, to intervene, but he knew that if he did he might not be able to get free. A sense of wrongness rolled through him from hearing what the Baku had done, and he felt just terrible for Cas. The angel didn’t deserve to be treated like that, or to even hear that such a thing had been done. And poor Dean. His throat ached.

_This is all my fault._

No. He couldn’t think about that. He had to get free. He’d started thinking of a plan earlier. What had it been? His thoughts were too clouded for him to remember. There was something. A symbol. Words. His own horrific nightmares. But he couldn’t piece it together. He needed more time. 

Sam was pulled from his thoughts as a choked sob climbed up the Baku’s throat. “H-h-he hurts so much,” he told them. “And there’s so much evil inside his head. So many horrible things he’s seen. So much fear, and loss, and self-loathing.” Tears were now streaming down its face, and it didn’t bother to wipe them away. “There’s so much… _pain_. And I can feel it. I’m forced to feel it. It’s agonizing.”

“Then leave.”

It shook its head, tears rolling off its cheeks and onto the floor. “Not yet. You all hurt me. He hurt me.” It paused and then went on, its voice low and even. “He has to pay.”

It was then that Sam slipped the restraints off. There was a thump as the ropes fell to the floor, and the Baku turned its tear-filled gaze on him. Its face went red with anger when it saw that Sam had managed to escape. He tried to jump into action, but there was something wrong with his head, and the Baku moved faster. He ended up getting knocked back into the chair and onto the floor, the Baku on top of him, a hand around his throat. 

Sam kicked his legs feebly, struggling for air. With one hand he fought to have it release him, and with the other he held onto its wrist, trying to keep it from stabbing the knife down into him. Lack of air started making his head pound, and his grip faltered. That was enough for the Baku to stab down, but Sam shifted at the last second, and rather than the blade entering his chest, it entered his shoulder. 

A scream would’ve left him if he could breathe, but rather, his mouth was open and he strained against the Baku, trying to get away. His shoulder burned and ached, and he could already feel hot blood seeping from the wound. The Baku cruelly twisted the knife, and the pain that racked his body was so intense that Sam couldn’t see for a while. 

It pulled the knife free. Sam’s already aching head pounded from lack of oxygen and his lungs were screaming for air. As a last resort, Sam lifted his head up forcefully, smacking himself against the Baku’s face. Right now he didn’t care that he was hurting Dean. He’d live. 

The force of it sent the Baku toppling off of him, the knife clattering to the floor. Sam rolled onto his stomach, taking in heaving gasps of air. Tears were rolling down his cheeks from the impact. It hadn’t just hurt his head. It’d hurt his entire spine. 

The Baku groaned, presumably picking itself up from the floor, and in a panic, Sam grabbed the knife. To his surprise the Baku started laughing again. He turned to see it standing over him.

“What are you gonna do with that, Sammy? You’re not gonna hurt your brother.”

“No. I’m not.”

His instincts pushed him, and his plan fell into place. Without hesitation he ripped open his shirt and began carving a symbol into his chest, screaming through clenched teeth.

The symbol he carved was a kanji, a kanji for the Baku. 

“No!” it cried when it began to realize what Sam was doing. “No, no, no!”

Sam finished and tossed the knife aside, breathing heavily, blood trickling down his sides. Before the Baku could so much as do anything Sam pressed a hand to the wounds, wincing, and shouted in a rush, “Baku-san, come eat my dreams!”

The Baku used Dean’s voice to scream, and a whistling wail joined it. There was a misty white light as the Baku was forced out of his brother’s body. Dean collapsed to the floor, a groan leaving him. The Baku seeped into Sam through the wounds, and he screamed from the way it burned to his very being. And then, he forced himself to think about his time in the Cage, all the nightmares he suffered from because of it. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, and now he was screaming from sheer emotional torment. There was fire, and horrific laughter, and a cold touch, and just so much blood. Sam forced his way through it, spoon-feeding the Baku all his worst nightmares. He fed it the fear, and the torture, and the humiliation, and the shame, forcing all of it onto the spirit.

The shriek of the Baku grew louder and louder, and all the lights in the library blew out. Then, his nightmares were gone, and the Baku left him, leaving him with the feeling of being doused in cold water. It hovered above them in the library as a ball of white light. And then, it burst and dissipated. 

Its destruction left something behind, and more tears filled Sam’s eyes. A bright light danced above the three of them in shades of blue and green. It was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. 

It gently moved through the air, over to Dean’s unconscious body. As if recognizing the part of himself, even in unconsciousness, his brother opened his mouth, and the part of his soul that had been taken rejoined him, making him whole again.

With the part of Dean’s soul now where it was supposed to be there was nothing to light the library. The darkness was absolute. Sam didn’t mind. He was worn and tired and too dizzy to even want to be awake. He had meant to get Castiel free, but whenever he tried to move it didn’t work. He eventually gave up and let sleep take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this there's just the epilogue, and then it's a wrap.


	15. Epilogue

Pain was the first thing Sam was aware of; a pain that reached deep, deeper than his bones, into his soul. It reminded him all too much of how he’d felt while attempting to complete the Trials.

Then a voice met his ears, far away at first, but it grew louder as if he’d drawn closer to it. It was Dean. And he was just talking, about everything and nothing. Sam opened his eyes, his brother’s face blurry in his vision at first. When he finally focused, Dean had ceased talking, and he was smiling down at him. Sam was lying in his bed, and Dean had pulled up the chair he had in his room to sit beside him.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, little brother,” he greeted cheerfully. “How ya feelin’?”

Sam started trying to sit up, and Dean helped him, putting a hand to his back.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he answered bluntly.

“Yeah, Cas said you’d be feeling shitty. He healed your concussion, and your stab wound, and the absolutely beautiful calligraphy you carved into yourself.” Sam couldn’t help laughing a bit at Dean’s comment about the kanji he’d cut into his torso. “But he couldn’t heal all of you. Don’t really know why. Something about the Baku taking root in your very essence, and some mojo about your soul…” Dean’s face furrowed in confusion, but he shook his head, discarding the thought. He pat Sam on the shoulder. “Glad you’re up.”

Sam leaned his head back against the pillow Dean had propped up for him.

“How long have I been out?”

“Only a day.”

Sam snickered. “Only.”

“Hey, we’ve had worse.”

The two brothers sat in silence for a bit, both of them thinking over the crazy events of the past few weeks. It was when Dean looked away that Sam knew he was about to start talking about his emotions; he’d never really been one for being comfortable with all that.

“So, uh… I wanna thank you, Sammy… for saving me.”

Sam turned his head to look at Dean. “Come on, man, you don’t have to do that. It was my fault. I was just trying to fix a mistake I made.”

Now Dean looked at him, his green eyes big and vulnerable, showing immense gratitude and affection. “That doesn’t change the fact that you saved me. I know I was pissed before-“

“You had every right to be,” Sam interrupted.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Can you not be my annoying little brother for once and let me finish?” Sam just gave Dean a smile, which was enough for him to continue. “I’m not mad at you, Sammy. I want you to know that. You went through hell to save me, and I can’t thank you enough.” Sam opened his mouth to tell Dean that he didn’t have to thank him, but he held up his hand to cut him off. “Don’t you freakin’ say I don’t have to thank you.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sam lied.

“Yeah, right. I have you at a disadvantage. I know you.”

They both laughed and then Dean pulled him into a tight hug. Warmth spread through Sam from knowing that all was right between the two of them. He was happy, happy enough to temporarily forget that he was in pain.

Dean’s voice was quiet when he next spoke, but that in no way impeded the intensity of his words, “I love you, Sammy.”

 

It took about a week for Sam to be fully healed from his fight with the Baku. Dean had left on a hunt a few days before. Cas had felt torn because he’d wanted to be with both Winchesters at the same time, but he’d known that his place was with Sam until he felt better. 

Now, Sam was just getting back from going out to pick up pizza, chips, and beer. He’d gotten a call from Dean a few hours earlier, and he should be home any minute now. 

 

Despite having just finished a hunt, Dean was actually showered and well rested. He knew Sam was feeling better, so he wanted to be in a condition to spend some quality time with him. It’d been too long since he’d actually enjoyed spending time with his brother.

The metal door serving as the entrance to the bunker creaked as Dean opened it. He was met with a surprise when he looked down into the war room. Both Sam and Cas were there, and the table was laden with two open boxes of pepperoni pizza, bottles of beer, and a bag of chips. Sam raised his beer bottle in greeting.

“Glad you’re back, Dean. I picked up some dinner.”

A smile lit his face as he made his way down the stairs, and he dropped his bag at the bottom before going to the table.

“What’s all this?” he asked the two of them.

“We’re celebrating,” Cas answered.

Dean took a seat beside Cas, and was instantly pulled into a hug. The angel even gave him a kiss on the top of his head, and heat flooded his cheeks.

“What are we celebrating?” he asked.

“You,” Sam answered, opening a beer bottle for him and handing it over. “Life’s good. You’ve got your soul back in one piece.”

“It’s not _all_ good,” Dean clarified before taking a sip. “Amara’s still out there-“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam reprimanded. “We’re not gonna talk about any of that crap. _You_ are back to normal. _And_ you’re no longer single!”

Dean smiled, blushing again. Sam was right. He didn’t have to think about the end of the universe right now. His brother had defeated the Baku, he was no longer semi-soulless, and he had Castiel. For that moment, he decided to be happy. Sam and Dean ate and drank, but Cas was by no means left out. The three of them just talked, and laughed together. And Dean felt great.

At some point when almost all the food was gone, Cas whispered into Dean’s ear about meeting him in Sam’s room later. Dean watched him, puzzled, as he left the room.

“What?”

Sam answered, “I’m letting the two of you have my room for a bit. I know you wanted to show Cas _The Lord of the Rings_ ; I’ve got a TV and a big bed, so…” He finished with a shrug.

Dean grinned at his brother. But maybe his grin seemed a bit mischievous because Sam pointed a finger at him and said, “You get to have your first date there on _one_ condition.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And that is?”

“No sex in my bed, or even in my bedroom.”

Dean’s face went red. “Don’t worry, Sammy. You know me. I actually enjoy watching movies.”

“Just making sure.”

Dean couldn’t help laughing. “Man, how are you _okay_ with this?”

“Dude, don’t be an idiot, I’ve known you weren’t straight. Hell, I’ve probably known it longer than you.”

The sip of beer he’d been taking suddenly didn’t want to go down, and he found himself choking. He was shocked by his brother’s words. When his lungs decided they were done coughing he asked incredulously, “Wait, what? You knew?”

Sam just shook his head, an affectionate smile on his face. “I know you, Dean, better than anyone. I’m happy for you.” 

And once again Dean felt an immense amount of gratitude towards his brother, and he just sat there smiling at him.

“Now, go, get out of here,” Sam said. “Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

 

When Dean got to Sam’s room, Cas was already laying on the bed, partially propped up by some pillows, the remote in his hand as the TV screen showed the opening menu. He settled down beside the angel, wrapping his arm around him and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Ready?” Cas asked him.

Dean nodded, Cas pressed play, and the movie began.

And Dean was happy.


End file.
